


Tomorrow the World

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Series: Beat on the Brat [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1980s music, BDSM, Biting, Child protection, Choking, Consensual Underage Sex, Dancing, Falling In Love, Fighting, Heroin, Homelessness, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Murder, Jim's First Suit, Kissing, M/F Sex, M/M, M/M Sex, Masturbation, Overdosing, Referenced attempted child murder, Referenced teen murder, Separation, Teen Mormor, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, mormor, referenced teen suicide, speed - Freeform, troubled teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 215,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: Summer of 1989. Revolutions are brewing in the Eastern Bloc. Students protest on Tiananmen Square. Ayatollah Khomeini dies. Nintendo releases the Game Boy. The Bangles top the charts with Eternal Flame.And in the streets of Dublin, two volatile, violent teenagers meet. Both ravaged by tragedy; driven with a fury against the world who wronged them, they find something in each other that neither can ignore.A growing (and huge) playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3E5XYIrl0e6z3gNmzlxKrP?si=AEXFWD2WSwOHq7twwEBQ2wNote that the last chapter (32) is just the playlist - don't be caught unawares by the end of the story!
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: Beat on the Brat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158863
Comments: 133
Kudos: 59
Collections: FaerieCat Mormor





	1. Nice Boys

_I wish someone would turn up. I'm hungry._

_I don't usually eat much, but I haven't had any food for over 24 hours, and I really need *something*. I need to keep my strength up. And I fecking - *fucking* - refuse to go asking of the others like some beggar._

_The drizzle has eased up at least. Jack and I are leaning against the wall out of the wind, looking down the street, scanning for potential punters._

_Jack offers me the last of his fag, and I gratefully accept. It takes the edge off. He's had a customer tonight, but we are going to stick together till I have had one or it gets too late. It's too dangerous to be out here on your own - as I learnt early on. When there's two of you, the one left behind can make a show of writing down the number plate, or hang about near the alley._

_The others like pairing up with me. I'm small and scrawny-looking, though I can fight; but they like having me there because, unlike most people, I actually use my eyes and my brain. I can tell when someone's up to no good, or likely to cause a bother; and I can spot a plain-clothes guard a mile off._

_I finish the cigarette, throw the end in a puddle, savour the last bit of smoke in my lungs before I let it out slowly._

I don’t want to be here.

I Really. Fucking. Don’t.

And I don’t know why anyone would want _me_ to be here... Mum thought this was a good idea?? Father and I have been at each other’s throats for months now. It’s been getting progressively worse. And if a ‘holiday’ in Ireland that involves forcing me to attend high society events is supposed to bring us closer together, then they’ve lost their fucking minds. These events always make everything _worse_ \- inevitably I drink too much... get high in the car park... say something rude and incendiary to the worst possible person... get found out after screwing the wrong guy or girl... or inadvertently make a bloody scene. And usually it’s a combination of these things, and ohhhh, does Daddy Dearest let me have it afterwards. And he knows very well where to land blows or a belt so the marks don’t show...

Only I’m getting older... stronger... and harder to push around. He sees something in my eyes now that I know scares him. And if there’s anything a bully or a coward hates, it’s someone knowing that they’re scared...

And Lord Augustus Fuckwit Moran is _both_. And he _should be scared_... I’ve bled enough times at the fucker’s hands that nothing scares me any more. He’s alive because I love Gran - and Mum, despite all the times she turns a blind eye to his fuckery - adultery, corruption and plotting, and oh yeah, all the _shit_ that he’s pulled with his only son.

But it’s all for the great House Moran, isn’t it... to prepare me to be a Lord. So all that makes everything just fine!

 _Fuck_ it. As soon as their bedroom lights are out, I’m sneaking out. I haven’t been to Dublin since I was thirteen... I got in trouble then for shoving a miserable little lord-to-be who got obnoxious with me on the wrong fucking day. He started screaming and crying when he landed against the table with the punch bowl, and it broke... and he actually thought it was blood he was drenched with...

And I couldn’t stop laughing as the idiot with fruity bits in his hair kept screaming “I’m bleeeeding! I’m dyyyyying!” And I kept laughing until I could barely breathe, even as I was being dragged from the room by Father, listening to the kid scream blue murder.

To be fair, there _was_ blood from his scalp mixed in with the punch, but... Jesus fucking Christ! if you think you’re going to die, do it with dignity. Do it like a badass. Like I did that night facing down a livid Lord Moran.

I wonder if the kid will be present at any of the events I’ll be attending. A grim smile spreads across my face. God, I hope so... I bled way more that night than he did.

I peek out of my bedroom door in the manor Father has rented. Lights still on... Fuck. I close the door quietly, and pace in the room. Then I grab a flask hidden in my suitcase, and pour whisky down my throat.

Let’s see how much trouble I can find in Dublin at seventeen. I have a lot to live up to...

_A man comes walking up the street. He's a definite. I discreetly nudge Jack._

_He's nervous, hiding in his coat and hat as much as he can, looking around trying not to look as if he's looking around. Office type. First time, I'd guess. Guilt barely overridden by lust. Will probably cry about it later tonight._

_Which is fine with me, as long as I have that sweet sweet cash. Come on, fishy fishy..._

_The man slows down when he reaches us, takes out a packet of fags. Doesn't look into our direction as he asks: "Would... either of you boys like to come have a smoke with me?"_

_I say yes, gesture for him to follow me, lead the way to the alley. Jack follows a bit behind, lingers around the corner, far enough away for privacy, close enough to be called. Not that I think this guy will be any problem. If I shouted 'boo' he'd probably have a heart attack._

_I put on my best sweet yet confident reassuring smile. "First time?"_

_"Yeah - yah," he nods._

_"Don't worry, you're in good hands..."_

_As we head out of the alley, I am the proud owner of a crisp twenty-pound note, which will buy me food and some shiny shiny dream powder. I yearningly look at the chicken and chip shop which is wafting its greasy aromas out at us, but if I go to the corner shop I can get three cans of beans for a pound, which is healthier and will last me longer. Jack and I make our way there, then head back to the squat, where I buy a hit off Bennie._

_I eat one can of my beans, then make my way to my mattress, nearest the heating because I am the one who found this place and I'm always cold, and prepare my shot with steady hands, aching to sink into the numb oblivion..._

It takes forever, and I keep drinking whisky, pacing, listening to music. By the time the lights go out, I am more than ready.

I wait another 5 minutes to be safe, then slide on a leather jacket. I slip out of my room, quietly closing the door. Slowly I take the stairs down, testing each step so as not to give myself away with a loud creak. You never know with these old manors... they’ve been around forever, and owners don’t always have the money or wherewithal for maintenance or modernizing. _Whatever_. If they like living in mausoleums and dusty old showcases to the glorious past of the British Empire, leave me out of it...

As soon as I can get away from the house I grew up in, I _never_ want to return...

My foot steps down onto the hardwood floor, and I feel a surge of triumph.

Almost free... the door is within my sight...

A throat clears.

 _Shit_...

“Where are you going, Sebastian?” A voice that manages to be angry and smug at the same time echoes in the hallway.

 _Fuck_...

I turn and see my father in his dressing gown, leaning against the doorway of the parlour. The _dark_ parlour.

“Were you... waiting for me?” I demand. “In the dark??”

“Come sit with me, Sebastian. I’ll turn the light on if that suits.” His voice is cold, and he gestures at me abruptly to follow.

 _ShitFuckMotherfuckingFUCK_...

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I trudge into the parlour, my heart racing.

‘Don’t be scared of this fucker,’ I remind myself. ‘He can’t hurt you anymore...’

Father snaps on the light, and points at a hard wooden chair opposite the grand sofa he sits down on. My skin grows cold as I head to the chair, feeling like I’m approaching an executioner’s block.

_"Jimmy. Can you spare us a bit, man? I'm dying over here."_

_Vinny doesn't look good indeed. But I have only enough for two hits, one now, one tomorrow._

_"Nah, sorry man. I got just enough for myself."_

_"Come on Jimmy..." he's crawling closer. "You're my mate, right? I swear I'll get it back to you tomorrow."_

_He smells, of something rotting deep inside. I wouldn't be surprised if he had the sickness. He'll use any works that are around, doesn't give a fuck. And he'll let them fuck him without a condom if they pay extra._

_"Sorry, Vin. Not today. I'll see if I can get you some tomorrow."_

_His face looks yellow in the light of my candle, the bags under his eyes black. He scowls, but backs off, muttering to himself. I'll have to keep my gear close when I sleep or he'll nick it. Maybe he can blag something off the others, but they've got nervous around him as well. We're like a pack of animals, we can smell death in our midst, and we want to get rid of it... unfortunately we're too human to just throw him to the wolves. We're only prolonging his misery._

_Anyway. Not my problem. Not now, not now I have the waters of Lethe in my syringe, ready to spread their blissful nothingness through me. I tie my belt around my arm, pull it tight, grip it in my teeth, find the vein._

_Jack back - blood. Loosen the belt. Press. Plunge. Pressure._

_*Fuck* yes..._

_Put needle in case. World is fuzzy._

_Press tissue. World is far away._

_Plummet._

_Through._

_The mattress._

_The world is forgotten._

His eyes flicker over me in that way he has - I’m being assessed and found wanting... My skin prickles with AngerResentmentShame. ‘ _Why_ does he have to do that every fucking time’, I think, fuming... ‘Can’t he just write me off as useless and leave me the fuck alone?’

“Sebastian,” he says in a scathing voice. “Where in God’s name are you going at this hour? In _that getup?_ ” His fingers tighten on the armrest.

I look down at my Clash t-shirt, leather jacket and torn jeans. My scuffed boots stare up me defiantly.

“Just - going out for a smoke,” I mutter, staring back at my boots for a magic solution that doesn’t involve kicking my father in his pompous face.

“Mmm. And you required a change of clothing to engage in your disgusting habit?” he inquires in that cold voice I’ve been hearing since I was a child, and not measuring up even then.

“Oh, is it not a disgusting habit when you and your friends smoke?” I ask innocently. I lean back in the hard chair, and cross my arms.

He lowers his head and glowers. “ _As I’ve endeavoured to explain_... Social smoking amongst one’s peers is a far cry from skulking in the shadows with the dregs of society... It is a _weakness_ , Sebastian...”

“The _dregs?_ ” I laugh harshly. “The other students at _Eton_ , you mean... who don’t meet the standards of his Lordship?”

“We have higher standards to live up to,” he snaps, suddenly leaning forward. For an instant, I think he’s going to lunge at me, and I tense up. “That is, if the world as we know it is not going to bloody fall apart...” he snarls, his knuckles growing white as he grips the rich plum upholstery.

Oh. Easy trigger... I could wind him up some more if I wanted, but he’d end up red-faced and screaming, which would make my mother cry... And at the thought of being trapped in this house with him for days while he has little to distract him, I’m suddenly _fucking exhausted_.

“Yes, Father. I know, Father...” I say tightly, rubbing my eyes.

“Well you could at least _pretend_ to care about your family that _gives you everything_...” he fumes. “But you don’t care do you... you _never have_. You self-indulgent degenerate... Your mother has _much_ to answer for, Sebastian...”

I stand abruptly. “It’s late, Father. I’m going to bed..” My chest is getting tight. If he keeps hammering at me, I’m going to - fuck - I’m going to _lose it_ -

He looks up, his eyes bright with anger.

“See that you do. We have dinner with Sir Clement and his family tomorrow, and I don’t want to see you turning up red-eyed and slovenly. You will present yourself as a proper gentleman, _Master Moran_.”

I walk stiffly out the door and towards the staircase. “Good night, Father.”

“Sebastian,” he calls sharply.

I pause, my hand tightening on the bannister.

“Do not think to embarrass me this weekend. Or you shall have cause to regret it...”

I walk slowly up the stairs, my throat growing tighter and tighter. Just a few more steps... and I can drown my sorrow and forget... everything...

Each step is an eternity... I imagine him following me, and dragging me backwards by the hair.

And then I imagine punching him until he is limp and bloody, while my mother screams and screams...

Safely behind the door, I lean my head against the wall. I’m shaking with anger. It’s just anger... No one can hurt me... ever again...

I sink into bed, not bothering to get undressed. My trembling fingers unscrew the flask, and I sink into the sweet embrace of the only one who has my back in this godforsaken world. I close my eyes, ignoring the sting of tears.

_I wake up._

_I hate waking up._

_For one moment I'll be hanging in suspension, like being in freefall just before the ground hits you -_

_\- and then. A slab of granite straight to the face. The pain, everywhere._

_*No.*_

_I scramble for my works. Just a bit - just a bit to take the edge off._

_It means I won't have any later - unless I can get some money somewhere this afternoon. I might be lucky._

_It's hard to be on the street without it -_

_But the *pain* -_

_I shoot up, and the pain ebbs away, leaving me blissfully numb. I breathe a sigh of relief._

_I have to stop this. It's not helping me. I need to focus all my energy and genius on finding Georgie, not finding smack. God knows where he is. He must be so alone and sad and worried..._

_The pain is bearable when I'm numb._

_Just barely._

I wake up in a strange environment with a fuzzy head - not the first time, won’t be the last. I wake up in all kinds of interesting places with the most interesting people... Only today no one is lying next to me. Oh, right. _Dublin_.

I crack open one eye to look at the clock.

Noon. Fuck. I hope I don’t have an angry arsehole of a father to deal with...

I sit up, groaning. My head falls forward and I sigh. He doesn’t usually trouble himself with me when I’m home during school holidays, except when it comes to the bloody social calendar he’s so obsessed with.

And now it seems he’s sensing his time with me is coming to an end... next year I’ll be attending university, and I sure as fuck don’t intend to spend much time in my parent’s house, if any...

So the extra pressure this year is clearly his attempt to scare me straight (hah), and coerce, manipulate, and bully me into becoming the best little-lord-to-be he can.

God, he really has no clue what an impossible task he’s set for himself... If he honestly thinks I have an interest in following in his loathsome footsteps, he’s a bigger idiot than I thought.

I scoop up my smokes and lighter, and drag myself to the window seat. Opening the window, I light up and blow smoke towards the overcast sky.

Holiday in Spain would have been nice... at least I could have snuck away and partied and hooked up every night. The boys and girls would have lined up for me... I don’t get too arrogant about it, it’s just a fact.

Dublin, though - I don’t know it well enough yet to know where to go. But I’m certain I can start up a nice brawl, if I get bored enough... I’m sure a posh English accent would *dazzle* the locals...

When I’ve finished my cigarette, I wander down and find my mother reading in the sitting room.

“Morning, Mum,” I yawn, shuffling into the room.

“Oh, Sebastian,” she says, as if surprised to find me here. “Your father is out taking meetings about business prospects.”

“Yeah? I’m happy for him,” I mutter.

“Now, Sebastian... you did say you would try,” she chides, but there’s a troubled look in her eye.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I sigh, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be representing my illustrious ancestry by fake-laughing heartily at all the best parties...” I demonstrate with a carbon copy of Father’s arrogant braying.

“I’ll ask the cook to prepare you breakfast,” she says, ignoring this. “But luncheon will be in an hour...”

“Thanks, Mum - but I’m going into the city to explore a bit, so I’ll eat something while I’m out. I’ll just make coffee first...” I say, heading towards the kitchen.

I hear the peal of a bell, and I slow down. “Don’t be silly, Sebastian... there’s no need for you to be in the kitchen,” she laughs, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “Run along, and it will be brought up to you.”

“Alright,” I mutter. “See you later, Mum...”

“Six o’clock sharp, dearest...” she calls after me.

“Can’t wait,” I call back, rolling my eyes. Then I take two steps at a time to get back to my bedroom so I can dress and get the fuck out of here.

_Right, Moriarty. You have your numbing agent. You have your calm mind. Now *think*. It's what you do best, allegedly._

_Where is your brother?_

_You've checked your dad - he's not with him (thank god). He's not with Auntie Karen or Auntie Doris; and that's all the family you had. So - Child Protection have him. Which means he's either in a home, or with foster carers. Not in a mental home like you - *probably* - unless he went off the rails after -_

_*no*. Not Georgie._

_So - if he's in a home, how likely is it that he's still in Dublin? Well - no need to move him, I suppose, but then Dublin homes must be full of kids; other places might have more capacity. He's not at his old school; which makes sense, I suppose - it's best for him to be where no one knows him - or me._

_What if he's run away, and is living on the streets, like me? In some other town - I'd never know -_

_*Well,* you better find out then, Moriarty._

_Clear mind._

_Think._

_You've checked out family and friends, checked the old area, now it's time to get to the kids' homes. None of the kids around here who ran away from homes have heard of him, but then how many kids' homes are there in Dublin?_

_*Nineteen*._

_Right. So you have to somehow break into all nineteen and get a look at their registers without anyone seeing you, because you'll be locked up and the key will be thrown away. Whilst earning enough money to keep yourself alive. Which at the moment seems to include *bloody* smack. You weakling._

_*But the pain...*_

_You're weak, Jimmy Moriarty. You deserve the pain. You brought it on yourself._

_I can't function when I'm in pain. I can't *think* - all I see is -_

_*No.*_

_So. I need the numbing. For now. I'll give it up when I have Georgie back. I'll spend all my money on him, take him away, put him in a good school, get Sal to create IDs for some fake parents. It will be fine._

_Tomorrow, I'll go to Our Lady of the Assumption, stake the place._

_First I need to get some money._

_It's Saturday. I only need to get lucky once._

_I head into town._

Mum insists I use a driver to go into town, and I don’t have the heart to argue - I’ve written Father off, but Mum - she’ll be on her own when I move out for good, and I want us to part on good terms- so she knows none of this is about her.

Although it _is_ about her terrible judgment when it comes to a husband... but there’s nothing I can do about that.

I have the driver drop me at a side street, and walk the rest of the way to Dublin’s high street. The last thing I want is to be spotted getting out of a fancy car.

I spot a pub, and go in for a pint. I’m sure I look like any typical surly teenager, drowning in the melodrama of their life. But they have _no idea_ of what I’ve faced and barely survived...

My fingers tighten on my pint glass. I raise it and look down in surprise to find it empty - I barely remember having drunk it.

I wipe my mouth with my knuckles. Enough of that... no dwelling on the past, it fucks up my head too much. I rub my eyes, and dig in my pocket for cigarettes and my lighter.

I slouch my way outside to go walking for a bit, seeing what shops I can find. I light my cigarette, watching people pass by as I walk slowly, staring into the windows of shops as if I’ll find an answer in one of them.

I glance at my watch. Just a few hours of respite, before I’m back in that tomb of a house, that tomb of my life... I inhale and watch the clouds of smoke floating towards the sky, feeling utterly hollow.

_The centre is buzzing, as usual on a Saturday. I am hanging around, ensuring I don’t stay in one place for too long, looking like I am waiting for my mother to finish in a shop, or staying out of sight around a corner. Most shoppers are too self-absorbed to notice me, but I don’t want shopkeepers to get suspicious. Fortunately I’m good at disappearing in the background - many years of practice._

_Handbags mostly clutched under arms, not an option. Wallets largely in inside pockets, since it’s not hot enough to go out without a jacket._

_What you want is someone putting their bag down while they sit chatting on a bench, or..._

_*There.*_

_A smooth leather wallet slightly sticking out of a back pocket._

_Young guy, but rich. Those ripped jeans are 501s, boots are DMs, and not second-hand, jacket is proper leather. Tourist - English, I’d guess; here with mummy and daddy, which is why he’s hanging around the shopping area on his own. Hopefully loaded with cash to get some more top-brand jeans._

_Right._

_This is easier with two people, but two people means half the profit. I can do this. I’m fast and handy._

_I walk from the side alley to where he is standing. I’m pretending to be looking at the juggler, only noticing him when I’m nearly on top of him - startle, put my right hand on his arm, left hand hovering over his back pocket – recoil, moving into a stumble, grasp his arm firmly with the right hand to not lose my balance, left hand slipping the wallet out of his pocket, smoooooth..._

_A quick move. A hand grasping my arm. Angry blue eyes looking into mine._

_Shit._

I head to a shop with a t-shirt display in the window. As well as studded belts and collars, skin-tight plaid trousers, and combat boots. I scan the t-shirts - Clash, Sex Pistols, David Bowie... My eyes hone in a Ramones t-shirt.

 _That_ one.

I look around and realize a small crowd of people has gathered in front of the shop. They’re watching a juggler do his tricks, and cheering. I hesitate, not wanting to push through the ever-growing crowd. I gingerly move around the edges, getting bumped into as people join, oohing and ahhing.

Then one of these bumps feels significantly different, and I notice a sneaky hand where it shouldn’t be. I’ve nicked enough shit to know how this works...

Quick as you please, my hand shoots out and grabs the offending arm. I look at the thief attached to it, and find myself staring into the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I grasp my wallet firmly and snatch it from his hand. He looks up at me, stunned and fuming.

“Sorry, mate...” I growl. “Did I interrupt your petty larceny...?”

He tries to pull away from my grip, and my hand tightens on his arm. “Picked the _wrong_ bloody mark, didn’t you...” I drawl, staring down at him with a smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to have _instincts_ for these things?”

God, the _look_ in his eyes - panic and a flash of something - dark and seething. I freeze for a moment, still holding on to his arm, and staring at him in fascination.

_Feck - *Fuck* -_

_I try to drop out of his grip, but he's got me tight. His posh English voice berates me - but he's not calling the police yet, that's good -_

_*instincts?* What the fuck?_

_He sees - something - and stares at me, fascinated - his grip loosens -_

_I dash off._

I watch him take off, and he disappears into the crowd. And then he’s gone.

I scan the street, wondering where he took off to. I glance at the last spot I saw him. Should I follow?

And do _what_ , Moran?

I shake myself out of my daze. I don’t know what’s come over me. There was just something about him. I’ve never seen someone look so... feral.

And - I wanted to talk to him for longer...

Oh, brilliant - give him another chance to nick your wallet.

Anyway. Get your t-shirt. See what else you can find to not make this trip a complete fucking waste of time.

I enter the shop and start to peruse its contents. But now I’m feeling distracted, and it’s hard to focus on something so inconsequential as clothing. I grab the Ramones t-shirt to try on in the fitting room. It’s too small and I have to get the next size up - I’ve been working out like a demon the last couple of years... it’s the one thing that helps me forget about... everything. Well, that and drinking, drugs, shagging, and violence of course.

A few minutes later, I’m leaving the shop with my new t-shirt. I pop into another shop and again, lose interest after a few minutes. Shit. Now what... I buy a studded belt and exit the shop, feeling strangely tense.

Maybe lighting up a spliff is just what I need to take the edge off. I spot a narrow side street, shove my hands in my pockets, and head in that direction.

_As the sun is coming out, people have their jackets over their arms, wallets carelessly on display, just waiting for an enterprising young man to relieve them of their burden. I manage to get one from some business type, all American smile and fake tan, without him noticing._

_*Finally*._

_I rush to a narrow dead-end alley, get the wallet out from under my shirt, open it._

_*Re-sult!* Four twenties, a tenner, and three fivers - as well as some cards; I'll keep those for Sal, he likes that stuff -_

_The alley darkens. I push the wallet back under my shirt, but too late - shit. Did they see me nick it and follow me? Or did they spot me looking at the money just now?_

_Regardless – I should have paid more attention._

_Now I'm fucked - two burly guys, late teens, tattoos - I'd have trouble fighting one, though I might be able to, they usually don't expect me to put up much of a fight; but two - and they're blocking the exit. They're expecting me to run, so they're making sure I have no space to get past them._

_"What's dat ye got dere, my lad?" the first one drawls. Fuck, I hate the Dublin accent... I know I have it, but I try to get rid of it - in my head, at least._

_"I tink dat's mine," the second butts in. "Hand it over now, dere's a good lad..."_

_Fuck off. I back away slowly, keeping an eye on them, looking for an opening - I just need a small gap -_

_They keep getting closer, and effectively blocking the narrow alley. One of them grabs my t-shirt, pushes me against the wall. I kick his shin hard, and he drops me, but the other one grabs me before I can dash off._

_"Ow - ye fecking liddle shit -" The first guy's fist flies out. I manage to move my head with it, but still get a hard punch. I kick my heel against the guy who's holding me, but by now the first one has my arm and is pulling me up._

I duck into an alcove and slip my joint in between my lips. Just as I’m holding up my lighter, I hear the unmistakable noise of an altercation, unfolding just around the corner. The accents may be different than I’m used to, but by now my senses are finely tuned to violence.

I feel a tremor of excitement move through me as the noises grow louder. I shove the joint and lighter in my pocket and push off the wall. Cautiously I turn the corner and see - two bigger teens against a smaller one.

My eyes narrow. I’m all for violence but I fucking _hate_ bullies...

I start towards them slowly, then my mouth drops open. The dark-eyed little shit who tried to steal my wallet?? Did he try to steal from them, and they’re retaliating?

Regardless of the cause of the conflict, I appear to be moving at a quicker pace towards it.

“What in the bloody hell is happening here?” I shout in my poshest voice. I’m sure I can take them but being underestimated is always a useful little trick. “Take your hands off him...”

They stare at me, surprised - then scornful laughter fills the street.

“Oooh! Ye’ve got a feckin’ English bodyguard, do ye? Fancy!” one hoots at the pickpocket, who’s ceased struggling and is staring at me intently.

“Or is he your boyfrien?” the other jeers, and the thief’s face grows tight.

Fury alights in me, flooding my body with heat.

“Is two against one the only way you can win a fight?” I ask scathingly as I stalk towards them. “Fine. Come at me, you low-life cowards...”

“This isn’t _about you_ , English gobshite,” the first teen snarls, as he holds onto the thief tightly. “I’d suggest ye turn and walk away... while ye can still walk.”

“Sweet of you to worry about me,” I say, a smile growing on my face. “And I have a query for both you gentlemen.” I tilt my head with a questioning look on my face, and they look irritated and confused as all hell.

I slam my fist into the mouth of the one holding the thief. He grunts, stumbling backwards and his grip loosens. He looks at me, his lip bleeding profusely and his eyes bright with fury.

“Is it about me now, darlin’?” I ask with a mad grin.

_What the hell?_

_Is that - it's that guy whose wallet I tried to get earlier - did he follow me?? No - I would have noticed -_

_then what the fuck is he doing here?_

_Regardless - this may be the distraction I need -_

_He's approaching, taunting them..._

_Yes! Punched the guy who was holding me - there's a gap between the wall and the other guy -_

_I'm *out of here* -_

_Clutching my shirt with the precious wallet underneath, I dash out of the alley._

The second guy is looking back and forth between me and the guy I punched... like he can’t believe what’s happening. The first guy glares at him.

“Well? Are ye going to just feckin’ stand there?” he shouts.

I turn my smile towards him and he blanches.

“Conor...” he mutters. “Let’s jest feckin’ - get outta here, yeah?”

“Yeah, Conor... the little bird has flown,” I coo. Dimly, I was aware of the pretty thief slipping away the moment he could. But this was never about him... I hate bullies, I fucking _loathe_ homophobes, and I _need_ distraction. And however this ends, this will do.

“Wonder how brave ye’d be in a real fight, English,” Conor taunts, and I see his hand stealing towards his pocket.

I shrug and pull out the switchblade I just purchased from one of the shops, not knowing why.

“Let’s find out,” I suggest, flipping the blade open.

The second guy’s eyes widen like saucers. “Fuck dis, Conor,” he shouts, and takes off.

Conor glares. “Go on home to yer mam, Sean,” he shouts after him.

“I don’t know... I think Sean may have had the right idea, mate...” I say casually, fixing my eyes on him. He doesn’t want this fight - not by himself, not really. “If I end up dead on this street, makes no difference to me. So you see, Conor, I have nothing to lose... how do you feel about lying here bleeding and lifeless?”

He’s growing paler by the moment. I take a step towards him.

“Feckin’... f-freak...” he stammers, stumbling backwards and then turning and running.

I stare after him running until I’m alone on the narrow street. Then I close up the switchblade, and pocket it. Surging with adrenaline, I walk - not knowing where I’m going and not caring.

_I should dash back home. I could stop for dinner at a fast food place - have a nice juicy burger..._

_Instead I hang around just around the corner of the next alley. Curiosity killed the cat, but - I'm faster than any of them. They won't corner me again._

_I see one of the guys running out of the alley and dashing off - oh? What's Blondie doing? Is he beating up the other one? So badly his mate is running off instead of helping?_

_This is intriguing..._

_A minute later, the second lad comes running as well, takes off in the same direction as the first._

_What *is* that guy doing??_

_I approach the alley, hide in a doorway. Blond guy walks out. I see his face -_

_Wow._

_Anger, hatred - but not for those two guys. They were just - just there. Despair, right beneath the surface - *serious* despair, not your average teenage angst. Aggression barely contained. Muscular - works out. Confident but careful tread - is used to wanting to not be seen, but also used to being the cocky centre of attention._

_And - didn't rat me out when I pickpocketed him, and saved me from a robbery by those two thugs._

_*Interesting* fellow._

_I follow him, see him take out a joint and a lighter, enter another alley to have a smoke._

_I wait a second, follow him in._

_"Care to share?"_

When my head clears enough, I decide I should probably calm the fuck down. Maybe it’s not the best idea to start a knife fight in the streets of Dublin a few hours before I’m expected for dinner with my parents - god, and some obnoxious man and his haughty family. In any case, I definitely need something to take the edge off.

Just as I’m lighting up my joint, I hear a lilting voice. Oh did they change their minds? I think almost hopefully. But I turn and... _oh_.

I look at the dark-eyed thief in surprise, and inhale from the joint deeply. I blow smoke at him, regarding his demeanour.

“Hello again,” I say, handing him the joint. He still seems skittish and liable to run. But also... curious?

“Alright? What was that all about?” I ask casually, then intuit he probably doesn’t want to start sharing secrets like we’re best friends. “Political quarrel?” I ask, smiling wryly.

_Good. He's friendly._

_I take the joint, inhale, breathe out. Good gear. Of course. Probably taken with him from England - it's not like his luggage would be searched._

_"Yeah, political debate. They were sad Fianna Fáil lost in the last election, I argued that it was a positive development that the Green Party got its first-ever seat, but they're just not environmentalists; and, as you yourself noticed, rather uncouth."_

_There. I can do posh English too. A bit of an accent, but if I spoke like this back home, I'd be asking for a beating._

_I take another draught, hand back the joint. "Enjoying our fair city?"_

I listen to him with amused delight. Clever as well as pretty. How old is he - 16?

Seems highly intelligent, although his appearance certainly doesn’t scream private school education. Nor does his energy - I’m getting the impression of a savage, adorable feral cat. One that could rub against you with a purr, and unsheathe vicious claws in the next instant. What?? _Rub against you with a purr?_ Jesus, Moran - he was trying to steal your wallet a few minutes ago...

“Why wouldn’t I be, when the boys are so pretty?” I hear coming out of my mouth. Are you flirting with him now?? Jesus... just finish your joint and get out of here. Although, he seems streetwise enough that he may be a good source of information...

“Speaking of which - any good clubs to go to around here? Doesn’t have to just be boys,” I say, taking back the joint and breathing in the smoke. “Just good music and drink... and I wouldn’t say no to a hard-core dance floor, either.”

I want to be immersed in the sweet darkness, pressed against bodies, slamming to the beat, feeling my blood pump and my heart pound, and forgetting... everything. I want to be nowhere, feeling nothing, sharing in the nothingness with someone else. There’s always a willing partner for a few minutes or a few hours of pleasure. I need this if I’m going to get through this abysmal excuse for a holiday without killing my father or myself.

I exhale, and hand him back the joint. His eyes are assessing me - I imagine how I must appear to him, and I give him a lazy smile.

_Pretty?_

_I look at him, suspicious. Is he taking the piss?_

_No - he likes the look of me._

_Of *me*?? Scrawny, ugly Jimmy?_

_*Really?*_

_But then -_

_oh._

_He's looking for a club. Of course. Not - me._

_Of course not. Guy like him - blond, good-looking, aristocratic, well-built, well-educated - he'd have them falling over themselves to get into his pants. Wouldn't want some scraggy junkie kid touching him. Don't blame him._

_"From the looks of you, you'd like the Bunker. Plays punk, metal, new wave, the likes. Don't get too close with any boys inside though - there'll be some guys who take that the wrong way. Though you look like you'd enjoy a good punch-up, so - it's up to you," I shrug. "If you'd like that, just talk the way you did before - that makes fists fly easily here. If you can make yourself heard over the music, that is."_

_I take a final draught, hand it back._

_"Thanks. Have a nice one."_

_I walk off, keeping an eye out for the guys who attacked me earlier, but they've vanished._

_I get home without issue._


	2. In Dark Places

His face closes off when I mention the club. Why?

I’m momentarily distracted as he describes it - potential for sex or violence or both. Perfect.

Then suddenly the joint is being handed back to me with perfunctory thanks, and he slips away.

I have a strange feeling of our conversation being cut short. But...I didn’t intend to talk beyond that, anyway... the guy tried to steal my wallet. And after I rescued him from bullies, he approached me...

Whatever. I’m going to grab something to eat, and then head back to the manor. I may have time for a nap before dinner - I’m going to need all my strength to get through this fucking evening before I can drink myself stupid tonight...

I return to the high street, and head to a pub to order fish and chips.

As I eat my food, the recent events linger in my mind. And I keep seeing that look on his face... Did he feel... disappointed? Why? I shake my head. Unsolved mystery, I think to myself and head to the bar to order a Guinness.

_I got money, meaning I don't need to go out tonight - so I’ll go look at Our Lady of the Assumption._

_I get some gear from Bennie, hide it and the remaining notes in different places in my clothes, so even if I do get robbed I won't lose it all, get a bus to Ballyfermot, head to the home. Picturesquely surrounded by walls with broken glass at the top, but there are some bins round the back of another building that I can put on top of each other and look over. It's dinner time; everyone must be in the main hall._

_Which means the office will be empty... if only I knew how to get in there. There's no way to approach the main house without being seen. So I'll need to come back at night, get to the house without being seen, disable the alarm, pick the lock, find the office, pick that lock, probably pick the lock of the filing cabinet, and look through it._

_I could do it all, in theory... but there are so many variables._

_And if I get caught, I'll never find Georgie._

_And this is only one of the many kids' homes in Dublin. If they even put him in one in Dublin._

_I am tempted to bang my head against the glass shards in the concrete and keep banging until the pain stops - but no Jimmy, Georgie relies on you, you *have* to keep trying until you find him._

_There is a central office for Child Protection. And he must be in the police files in our old district. But they're both so tightly locked up that there's no chance for me to get at them._

_So children's home after children's home it is... and not get caught._

_You can do it Jimmy. You're a bloody genius._

_A fourteen-year-old broken junkie genius..._

_Anyway, Saturday night is not a good time to break in - too many people on the streets; probably extra alert surveillance in case the older boys try to sneak out to party._

_I'll come back next week._

Dinner is, of course, horrid. Father shouts at me before the guests arrive to be ready on time, and I have to stop myself from cursing at him and throwing an expensive vase over his head. He has _no idea_ how much he’s protected by Mum - against my ire and my fists.

I’m trying to keep the peace for you, Mum - I really am. But you must know on some level he’s a despicable bastard... and there’s only so much I can do to keep the hatred off my face, and from flying out of my mouth.

Just one more year, Moran... you can do this.

I keep myself from slouching through dinner, or making sarcastic comments. Or drinking too much. I ignore Sir Fuckhead Clement, and make polite conversation with his insipid wife and haughty daughters. Mum looks pleased, so I guess I’m doing alright. I’m this close to stabbing myself in the thigh with a fork whenever anyone asks me a question.

After dinner when the men disappear into the study, and the women are taking tea and gossiping in the parlour, I slip outside. I figure I deserve a reward for my playacting. _Do they really think I’m one of them_? I think to myself as I light up a joint outside by the gardening shed.

Then one of the haughty daughters is suddenly there, making eyes at me and I have to try not to heave a sigh of annoyance.

She’s full of attitude and grandeur, and I consider telling her to piss off. But then she makes it clear what she’s there for, and I shrug and open up the shed and gallantly escort her in. A joint is well and good, but I’m not about to turn down an orgasm, am I.

And ok, she’s attractive - lean and toned, with lovely legs, pretty blonde hair... it’s hard for little Seb to not appreciate her body when she’s pushing her cleavage into me and dragging my hand under her skirt.

After this it’s not long at all before I’m plunging into a willing body and we’re banging away against the wall of the shed, and fuck this is good, I _really needed this..._

God, does she make a _bloody racket_ , though... I keep having to shush her, because the last thing I need is one of her parents hearing something through an open window... and throwing a tantrum about me despoiling their virginal daughter (HAH)... and then Father making my life even more of a living hell.

She thinks it’s funny though, and keeps saying “Yeah? Make me.”

 _Jesus_.

So I say “Gladly,” and cover her mouth with my hand.

She doesn’t think that’s so funny, and hits me in the head with something hard. I curse loudly, and look down at the gardening shears that have fallen to the ground.

“Fucking serious?” I mutter, and she glares at me, and I consider dropping her on the floor and leaving her in the shed.

But she strikes me as someone who wouldn’t take that very well, and god knows what she’d tell her parents.

So instead I growl, ‘Do you want this or not?’

And she snaps ‘Yeah, so don’t fucking waste my time’.

And we both look murderously at each other, and from here we engage in what can only be described as hate-sex. Which honestly is perfect for this moment, and I don’t think I could pretend anything else.

And afterwards she’s laughing about how hot it was, and I politely agree and escort her back to the house. Where I excuse myself with a headache until it’s _finally_ time for them to go.

She slips her number into my pocket, and I smile pleasantly, and say my goodbyes to everyone before disappearing back up the stairs. I slip into the shower, and wash away the remnants of her, her entire family, and this abysmal evening.

Then I throw on a t-shirt and jeans, and wait for them to go to bed. I don’t think Father will be lying in wait for me, as I behaved reasonably well... as far as he knows. I wait an extra thirty minutes to be safe, then slip out the back door to meet the taxi that’s waiting for me at the end of the street.

Next stop - the Bunker. The weed and inadvisable sex has already taken some of the edge off. Now it’s time to have some _fun_.

_I got myself a hit which is blissfully numbing the pain. Bennie also gave me some methamphetamines to counteract the doziness, he said. Overall it's a pleasant combination - I feel nice and numb, but somehow alert as well. It's actually - pleasant._

_Some of the guys are talking about going out, and whereas I normally don't bother, I figure - why not. We get the bus to near the centre, head to the Sting, a sleazy hall on the unfashionable end that doesn't look too closely at age, drug use, weapons, or anything, really. We get a cheap bottle of lager each and sit near the dance floor, at this hour still quiet, only occupied by stoned girls sinuously moving to the sounds of some psychedelic trash. Sam and Derek are drooling over the show, but I get bored. I'd like to dance myself, but not to this shit._

_The music in the Bunker is not quite my thing, but it's better than this pseudo-sixties wallowing._

_It's not far. I could just head over, have a beer, have a go on the dance floor, get rid of some excess energy, get back here in time to go back home with the rest._

_The English guy might be there._

_Not that I care. I just want to have a good time._

_"This sucks. I'm off," I tell Derek. He nods absentmindedly, absorbed in some blonde who seems to be entranced by her own arms. I roll my eyes, get outside. It's pleasantly mild; the streets are full of people heading from bar to club. No fights just yet, just girls giggling on heels that are too high and boys wolf-whistling._

_The Bunker is slightly further in town, down a side street from the main strip. They're less open-minded than the people from the Sting, but I'll usually be able to get a beer._

_Some rocky tune plays as I walk in. I don't recognize it, don't much care for it. My eye sweeps the crowd. Just routine. Got to know who's here. If there's anyone to be wary of._

_He's impossible to miss. In the middle of the dance floor, catching the spotlight on his blond hair. Black jeans – tight and artfully torn - and a Ramones t-shirt that I suspect he bought in Spikes today._

_He's the undisputed king of the dance floor - just a bit taller, a bit more muscular, a bit more handsome, moving a bit better than anyone else._

_And his hands and mouth are all over some pretty girl - red curls, ultra-short skirt underneath which his hand occasionally disappears, mile-long legs ending in patent black heels._

_I make my way to the bar, manage to get a beer. A new song starts up._

Your cruel device

Your blood, like ice

One look, could kill

My pain, your thrill

_He's got great moves. The girl is rubbing herself against him, but is mostly relying on the sexual pull of her breasts and pelvis. He is moving like a serpent ready to strike._

_I sip my beer. I've kind of lost the dancing mood._

Your mouth, so hot

Your web, I'm caught

Your skin, so wet

Black lace, on sweat

_I shouldn't have come. This place is shit._

_Wait._

_The girl is ungluing herself from his body. She laughs, calls something in his ear, holds up her hand, mouths ‘two minutes, max', then heads to the edge of the dance floor, where her friend grabs her arm, and they walk out of the room, presumably to the loos, giggling._

_I feel a sudden inspiration; follow them into the corridor. Put on my innocent face. Touch her arm._

_"Hi - sorry - could I have a quick word?"_

_She turns, smiling, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"_

_I smile my nervous, well-meaning smile. "That guy you were dancing with - you know he's English?"_

_She scoffs. "As Nessie says, 'You can't taste it!’" She and her friend dissolve in giggles, then she looks back at me. "Yeah, I know. So?"_

_I look apologetic. "I don't mind, honest - but - I was standing next to these guys, and I couldn't help but overhear - they heard he's English somehow, and they were talking about teaching you both a lesson..."_

_Her smile fades, uncertain._

_"They were calling you a... a slut, said they'd break his and your arms and legs, that would teach you - and - well, he looks like a strong guy, but there were four of them, that I could see. And - I can't stand seeing a nice lass get hurt -"_

_She believes me, obviously. Her friend is looking worried._

_"I told you he was trouble..."_

_"*Finally* we get a good-looking lad around here, and he's fecking *English*..."_

_"You're not going back in there. Let's head to the Gonzo. Sorry, but he's not worth getting in trouble over. I don't care how hot he is."_

_The girl looks pissed off, but relents. She looks at me._

_"Can you - he's a really nice guy, honest he is - could you - tell him that we've gone to the Gonzo? You know it? It's just up the main road, second street to the right?"_

_"Sure," I assure her. "I'll have a quick word if I can - got to stay under the radar myself, of course."_

_She nods, looking worried, but her friend is pulling her in the direction of the exit. I give them a friendly wave and a smile, then head back inside to see how long it will take Blondie to realize that his girlfriend has walked out on him._

The moon

Is shining in the sky

Reminding me

Of so many other nights

But they're not like tonight

After the girl leaves, I go off to the bar to have a beer. A couple of pulls on the bottle, and I realize - I don’t actually care if she returns or not.

I just want to be _here_ \- lost in the crowd.

I’m in another city, another country, and at this moment I don’t give a shit if I ever return home. I’m _no one’s_ son. I have _no name_. I’m balancing on the edge of a razor, and _anything_ could happen. This moment - is everything - I want - in life.

A new song starts and I drink the rest of my beer so I can reclaim my spot on the dance floor.

I don’t need a partner. The world is my partner.

I begin to sway to the pulsing beat, my hips moving rhythmically.

_Here on my own_

_All on my own_

_How good it feels to be alone tonight_

_And I haven't felt so alive_

_In years_

I’m starting to actively hope she doesn’t come back. It’s been so long since I’ve felt - if not happy, then... _free_.

Music is pouring over me like a soothing balm, the coloured lights are flashing and making the world feel like it shines...

_Reminding me_

_Of so many other nights_

_When my eyes had been so red_

_I'd been mistaken for dead_

_But not tonight_

As the song winds down, my eyes close and I sigh heavily. When a new one starts up, I head back to order another beer. I turn and lean against the bar, scanning the crowd. Relief floods through me when I see no sign of the girl or her friends. This means the night is totally mine, totally open to possibility. I don’t want to just get plastered and screw someone, then crawl into bed, and feel the same emptiness that is always awaiting me in the morning, lurking in my chest...

Will there ever be a time that I don’t feel this way?

Feeling discomfited by the thought, I look into the crowd as if searching for an answer. Just as I hear my bottle being pushed across the bar towards me with a metallic scrape, a new song begins.

_Hey you, you're a wild honey child_

_I'm out of control_

_Every time you are near me_

_I'm a wolf child, baby_

_And I'm howlin' for you_

_My heart beats faster_

_Hey, hey, and it's overpowered-_

A flash of light later and I see - really? No-

I squint into the darkness punctuated by neon colours.

The thief? Well, he did tell me about this place...

I don’t know if there’s any point in saying hello, it seems likely he’ll just take off again.

The light flashes again, and I see his eyes on me. Gleaming. Although I couldn’t possibly tell that in this environment... nevertheless, I feel the strangest sensation of a tractor beam peeling my body from the bar and pulling me towards him. I swipe up my beer as my trajectory begins.

But now he’s looking away, and I start to feel silly making a beeline towards him.

I mean, _is_ it weird? He did try to steal my wallet...

No, _it’s fine_. We did share a couple of extraordinary moments, so is it _so_ strange that I’d swing by for a brief chat? Then I’ll return to the bar, and see where the night takes me...

My brow furrows. He’s still not looking at me...

_Yeah you_

_Sweet sensation of a nation_

_Oh, my soul_

_You're a perfect creation_

_You're an angel, baby_

_And I'm cryin' for you_

_My heart beats faster_

_Yeah hey, and I'm overpowered_

When I reach him, I tap his shoulder. He turns and his eyes lock on mine. A dazed feeling comes over me. What the fuck is that? I haven’t had that much to drink yet... too much weed, maybe...

I shake it off and give him a wry grin, like ‘isn’t this weird’. Because OK it is, a bit. Why am I talking to a guy who steals wallets and gets into altercations in alleys? No matter how pretty he is... and how dark his eyes are...

“Fancy meeting you here...” I say leaning down to be heard over the music. My shoulder brushes against his.

_He doesn't seem too upset that his partner has left - he looks perfectly happy dancing on his own, becoming one with the music, expressing its essence through his body - it's a delight to watch._

_When the song ends he gets another beer. Leans on the bar -_

_Eyes meet across a dark crowded room._

_Huh._

_Why does that make me feel -_

_\- well -_

_\- a - spark of something? A tingle, somewhere? What is that?_

_Oh - he's - walking over._

_Where do I look? Shit – I turn my head, desperate for something interesting to gaze at -_

_Is he walking over here? What do I do? What do I say? Sorry for trying to steal your wallet? Thanks for helping me? Can I buy you a beer? Only can you get it because you're less likely to be challenged on your age?_

_A tap on my shoulder._

_I turn around._

_There he is._

_Fuck, he's -_

_*gorgeousenchantingdazzlingmagicalotherwordly*_

_In the dancing lights his eyes keep changing colour. Such deep pain, under a layer of anger - no - fury with the world. But there's also such depth and soul to them... the way he looks at me, like he looked this afternoon... god, people must fall for him left, right, and centre._

_I notice I'm still staring. He's giving me a sideways grin, leans down - his shoulder touches mine -_

_It shouldn't make such an impression on me that a fucking *shoulder* touches me._

_'Fancy meeting you here'. What does that mean? What do I say to that?_

_Open your fucking *mouth*, Moriarty._

_"Yeah, well. I like the music" *I don't* "and they're not too strict with the age check," I grin wryly, holding up my beer. "Does it live up to your expectations? It's not London, I know..."_

I can’t get a read on what he thinks about seeing me here - or talking with me. He seems conflicted for some reason... But he doesn’t seem opposed to my presence. Verdict’s out on whether he’s going to take off again...

“Thanks for the suggestion, it’s great,” I enthuse. “Makes me want to return to Dublin...”

He nods and sips his beer, looking out at the dance floor.

“London is full of pretentious twats, anyway,” I continue. “It’s good to get away...”

He looks curious but remains silent. Closed off.

I’m normally great at coaxing people out of their shells, so what is it about him that’s making my attempt at a conversation dry up? Well, I guess that’s an answer in itself - he must not want to talk to the English bloke whose wallet eluded him.

Fine... one more try, and I’ll leave. But there’s something going on underneath the surface, I _know_ it -

I surreptitiously do a scan of his body language as we listen to the music - he seems tense, but he’s turned towards me, his hips tilted towards mine. His eyes are shuttered, but bright, nearly feverish. Stealing glances. If there’s one thing I know it’s how to read people’s propensity for sex and violence in the moment.

So maybe it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to me... is it that he finds me attractive, and is feeling insecure?

_Oh_... interesting. He’s not giving me a vibe of wanting to find a quiet alley for a shag, but... I wonder if a snog is a possibility.

It’s unbelievably easy for me to find girls who want to get into my pants. Boys are trickier - unless you find yourself in a gay club or a park known for such proclivities, there’s a subtle signalling game that can be easily missed.

Fortunately I am finely attuned to the signs... otherwise I would never get any action with boys. Which would be a crying shame... I know I’m a skilled lover with both genders, but with boys there’s a sense of being on an even playing field. I need to concern myself a bit less with their emotional wellbeing and hang-ups, and I can really just let go - more primal, more base, more aggressive - unleash the wild animal within, the one who’s usually growling softly and pacing in a cage...

Not that I would get aggressive with _this_ boy... there’s a fragility to him that makes me want to just stroke the hair off his face and whisper into his ear. I blink - strange thought. I’ve had nothing but strange thoughts since meeting this mysterious thief with the dark, gleaming eyes.

Shit - he’s looking at me. Say something, Moran.

“Do you live around here?” I murmur seductively into his ear. He looks surprised and... panicked?

Fuck. Too soon, too fast! Retreat, you _idiot_...

“Just - erm, wondering what I can get up to in the city while I’m on holiday...” I say lamely. “My parents are a nightmare...”

He still says nothing, just regards me cautiously. Now _I’m_ panicking... Did I read him wrong??

A familiar intro to a song begins. Our eyes meet, and it feels like a charge moves through us.

_Relax, don't do it_

_When you want to go to it_

_Relax, don't do it_

_When you want to come_

Yeah. I didn’t read him wrong. He’s gay and he’s into me. And he’s fucking adorable...

 _Message received, sweet thing,_ I whisper in my mind as I gaze into his eyes intently.

_Live around here?!_

_No - I don't - live -_

_I mean -_

_Fuck, what am I even doing, talking to him - he's *normal* - on holiday, looking for a good time - he lives in a different world than I do -_

_except - he *isn’t*, not quite. There's pain there, and despair, and wrinkles that no face so young should have._

_And violence and rage._

_'My parents are a nightmare...'_

_He's trying to make it sound like the normal casual teenagers' lament, but there's something there - genuine loathing. Interesting._

_He's looking into my eyes so deeply - what's going on there? What does he want from me?_

_There's the impulse to run, but it's overruled by curiosity and - well - fascination. And - he's fucking hot. As in, really hot. He'd never be interested in someone like me, but - as long as he's here -_

_I know this track. I like it._

_"I mostly come here to dance - blow off some steam," I say, nod to the dance floor._

Hmm. Definitely too early to suggest finding a quiet spot somewhere, even for some innocent kissing. And I realize with surprise I don’t even care...

The guy before me is so unlike anyone I’ve ever met, the anonymous strangers I’ve crossed paths with.

But if I wanted the usual, I wouldn’t still be here... talking to the mysterious thief with the endless dark eyes. Would I.

I just... find him strangely... fascinating.

But I know I can’t be too direct with him; he’s liable to run off again. I just want to spend as much time as possible in his presence before that inevitability.

I lean in again, and let my lips brush against his ear.

“Yeah? Me too...”

I grin at him, and pull away. “Got any moves, little thief?” I ask, challenge gleaming in my eyes. Then I walk backwards staring at him for a few paces, before returning to the dance floor. I position myself to be facing him, smiling slyly.

_But shoot it in the right direction_

_Make makin' it your intention_

I begin to sway and move my hand up, surreptitiously gesturing him over.

_Live those dreams_

_Scheme those schemes_

Then my hips start to get in on the action.

_Got to hit me_

_Hit me_

_Hit me with those laser beams_

I point towards my eyes and then to him with a smirk.

_Oh well look at that._

_I was trying to be casual - like, I am going to dance, see what you do; and then maybe end up dancing together or something, but - he's all up for it._

_Up for *what*?_

_Well - who cares. We're here, there's music playing, and I want to move. If I get to look at a dancing god while I am doing so, so much the better._

_I walk over, slowly, not too keen. Certainly not giving him the impression that I'm *responding* to his *beckoning*..._

_Firm, confident steps. Onto the dance floor. Start moving. Let the music flow through me - I love that feeling, when there's nothing else, just - rhythm, melody, moving my muscles for me..._

Relax, don't do it

When you want to go to it

Relax, don't do it

When you want to come

_Oh_... the little thief can _dance_.

I watch with pleasure as he begins to move once he’s claimed his spot - a little way off from me, not too obvious for any potential homophobes in the crowd.

 _Good_. I can take care of myself, but the last thing I want is to worry about-

A chill crawls over my skin.

Fuck.

_Don’t think, Moran!_

Just dance and forget. Listen to the bloody song...

_Relax don't do it_

_When you want to suck to it_

_Relax don't do it_

_Love_

_When you want to come_

And then I’m not thinking of anything but the one in front of me, because I know I can dance, but I’ve never seen anyone _move_ like this...

like you’re on a stage, far _far_ beyond everybody else.

You’re not even occupying the same world... are you.

My lips part in a daze as I watch you and slowly inch closer.

Then losing myself to the music, I find myself mouthing the words as I gaze upon the one before me, shining like a star.

_I love dancing. I have always loved dancing, but I haven't done it in - well - ages. I should have... I just never felt like it. But - if I'm not in the mood for dancing - dancing puts me in the mood..._

_I wanted to be a dancer when I was younger, but we couldn't afford lessons and well - it wasn't something a boy was supposed to like. But I always did - and Georgie loved dancing with me..._

_*Don't.*_

_Not now._

_No past. No future. Just music._

_The song ends, the next one starts up. A few seconds of guitar - then the beat comes in, and I'm moving._

Last night a little dancer came dancin' to my door

Last night a little angel came pumping on the floor

She said "Come on baby I got a license for love

And if it expires pray help from above"

_There is no club. There is no world. There is a dark sphere which is throbbing with music, the beat rising up from the earth, the melody pouring down from the speakers, and me caught in them, muscles following the sound, entire body caught in the movements of the chords..._

_and in this sphere, one other body, changing colours, caught up in the music like I am, moving in perfect counterpoint, his motions matching and complementing mine, as mine have been his. I look at his face, and his eyes flare -_

In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more

With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more

Stunned, I try to navigate this electrifying moment of you and me and what’s between us... between our bodies, crawling and writhing like a creature that will not be satisfied until - what?

I don’t know anything anymore...

(This is _dangerous_ , Seb!)

No it’s _not_ , because I’m only in town for a few days, and this is just for fun, and he feels the same way, I tell myself firmly.

In a daze, I stare at the Dionysian spirit before me, writhing, spinning, winding like a serpent... and more importantly, I see you staring back just as intently.

Fuck... I want to move closer, put my hands on your hips, feel your arms around my shoulders... and why the fuck can’t we?!

(You _know_ why... don’t be fucking naive...)

So maybe we should go to a gay bar instead??

But I’m afraid if I even speak, this fragile moment will disintegrate, and I can’t let it...

I need... more...

_I walked the world with you, babe_

_A thousand miles with you_

_I dried your tears of pain, babe_

_A million times for you_

I inch closer, as though someone’s pulling me on a string...

_I'd sell my soul for you, babe_

_For money to burn with you_

I pretend to be crouching down to adjust my boot laces, but I stare up at you as if I’m kneeling at your feet and you can ask anything of me, anything...

_I'd give you all, and have none, babe_

_Just to, just to, just to, to have you here by me_

_Because_

Then I rise, gently brushing against you as if by accident, before retreating a few paces.

_In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more_

I mouth the lyrics as if I’m drunk on this song and the endless night in my veins... but it’s you I’m singing to like a drunken fool... and it’s you that’s coursing through my veins...

_More, more, more..._

_I want more... I want this to never end, this perfect cocktail of smack, speed, beer, good music, a beautiful dance partner..._

_I see those glances, baby, and I feel ten miles high... somehow you have seen something you like in me, and the air between us is charged, and your moves are in response to me, in support to me, I am the prima ballerina and you are the corps, as well as the adoring audience..._

_You want to look, you want to touch, but I can't plaster myself over you like that girl did, even if you were Irish._

_But that's alright, because we have the music, we have the night..._

Uh-huh make me tonight

Tonight

Make it right

Uh-huh make me tonight

Tonight

Tonight

I never want to leave this place, never want to step outside and break the spell...

I watch you, utterly bewitched. God, it’s like someone designed you for me... I have _such_ a thing for cute, shy boys - always have, always will. Although I don’t know if _shy_ is the right word for you. You’re brimming over with mysterious intensity... and something else. Something dark and teeming that I can’t quite put my finger on. But I’d like to...

Maybe it’s time to learn more about the little thief I can’t tear my eyes away from. I’m going to suggest a drink and hope this night doesn’t end with you taking off - again. Because quite honestly, after this build-up, I have no idea what I’d do...

_Tonight, make it magnificent_

_Tonight, make me tonight_

We continue to dance, and people keep pouring in - which is good, because in this crush of people, it doesn’t seem strange that we’d be dancing so close. And it’s the perfect excuse to take a break and get away from the crowd. When the song ends, I lean down and cup your ear with my hand.

“Getting a bit crowded... Would you like a drink?” I look down at you with a smile.

_Drink? But music..._

_Though this next song is noisy, and yes, I am a bit thirsty..._

_I nod, and we walk off the dance floor._

_“I should buy you one, to thank you for helping me out with those guys earlier,” I say. “Beer?”_

I glance at him - he’s clearly not as well off as I am, but I don’t want to make him feel like I’m being condescending.

“Oh let me, I look older...” I say with an easy grin. I step up to the bar, and give my order to a young woman with long dark hair at a tight leather top. She beams her smoky bedroom eyes at me, and I smile politely and turn away from her to lean against the bar. I don’t think so... not when the most fascinating boy I’ve ever met is here next to me, shooting daggers at her with his eyes.

Aww. _Jealous?_ I think with a grin. Don’t be, I’m all yours.

I look at you admiringly. “You’re an amazing dancer... I couldn’t take my eyes off you...” I say in a low purring voice.

I let that hang between us for a moment - I doubt you think it’s your technique that I’m hung up on.

There’s a thump of glass on wood, and I turn around. The bartender slides two bottles towards me. She leans towards me to tell me the cost - cleavage locked, loaded, and pointing in my direction. I slide money towards her in a precise movement, and swipe up the bottles. She huffs, and walks away. I hand one to you with a wry grin.

“I just realized I don’t know your name. I can’t just call you little thief for the rest of the night...” I give you my best playfully flirtatious smile. “I’m Sebastian...”

_Oh good. I mean - I felt I had to offer; I'd have none of this money left if he hadn't stepped in - but I am deeply conscious of every pound leaving my pocket. And you're right about you looking older, though this bar lady doesn't usually give me any problems._

_She does look at you awfully seductively, though - fuck *off* lady. Not now._

_*Mine*._

_I feel a dark burning inside me - I'm familiar with its heat, but not usually in a context like this. Why am I getting so possessive of this posh English kid?_

_I haven't had anything nice in *so long*..._

_He turns his back to her before she's even given him his drinks, smiling at me. God, that smile... like I'm the only person in the room, like I'm the most fascinating person he's ever met._

_Blatantly ignoring the barmaid's breasts being pushed into his face, he hands me a beer. His hand brushing mine just barely perceptibly..._

_"Ricky," I smile back. "Pleased to meet you, Sebastian..." I raise the beer, put the bottle to my lips, pour some into my mouth, not taking my eyes off yours. The pounding of the bass seems to merge with the beating of my heart, louder, harder... there's nothing else around us, just those eyes looking at me, that tongue licking those lips..._

Ricky, I think with pleasure... I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Ricky.

But then I don’t think about it further because you’re _smiling_ at me and it’s such a beautiful sight. You were so guarded up to now. Maybe the dancing helped you relax and feel comfortable with me... we should do some more of that.

But right now, you’re staring at me as if I’m a treat you’d like to devour.

“Pleased - to meet you too,” I murmur thickly, and drink down some of my beer. Quick, what can we talk about? You don’t seem like the type who likes to talk much about your life - _understood_.

I’m about to open my mouth to speak, when a new song starts playing, dirty guitars grinding.

_Can you tell what's on my mind?_

_She's with him, it drives me wild_

_I'd like to hit him on the head_

_Until he's dead_

_The sight of blood is such a high_

_Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo_

_He gives me head_

A charge moves through me. I have no idea if we’re going to get that far, but god... just the _thought_...

My lips part to speak, then I see you’re listening to the lyrics too.

_We made it on a ballroom blitz_

_I took his arm and kissed his lips_

_He looked at me with such a smile_

_My face turned red_

_We booked a room into the Ritz_

_Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo_

_He gives me head_

We’re staring at each other with heat building between us, and I’m sure I must be grinning like an idiot, and I need to stop, before he thinks that’s all I care about. I don’t care what happens, I just - know I never want this night to end.

“I’ve never... met anyone like you before, Ricky,” I confide breathlessly. Then suddenly feeling shy, I cover up by taking a drink from the bottle I’m clutching. Jesus. I’m _never_ like this... calm the fuck down, Moran.

“I’m glad you chose me as your mark,” I say with a wry smile, and nudge you with my shoulder.

And though I'm only just fifteen

I like to kick, I like to scream

And even if I have a kick or two in bed

When I'm with him it's just a dream

Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo

He gives me head

_*Subtle*, Mr DJ. Thanks for putting that thought in my head._

_You on your knees, your mouth on me... *Fuck*..._

_Has it got hot in here?_

_*Never met anyone like you before...* god he looks like he means it..._

_fuck off... he says that to everyone..._

_*No he doesn't. You can tell when people lie. He's blushing, for fuck's sake...*_

_Your shoulder nudges mine, and sparks fly - I'm sure I can see them jump between us when your shoulder moves back._

_The music grows louder -_

And if or when I make it through

Or if my brain is stuck on glue

And when the world tries to forget

All that I've said

I'll still remember you

_Your head - it's getting bigger. No - coming closer._

_I've never kissed anyone before...-_

_Lips, surprisingly cool - because of the beer. Soft. Smooth. Then warm._

_Pressure, so slight. Hand on my shoulder, warm. My hand moving to your back. Other hand has beer. On your hip._

_Closer._

_A tongue. Sleek, slight. Caressing lip._

_My tongue comes out, meets your tongue. Explores. Tongues pushing against each other, reminiscent of - other body parts? Is that why people do this? Regardless, it's pleasant... makes me feel warm..._

I didn’t even realize I was doing it... leaning in, staring at your mouth...

Maybe a good thing - I might have second-guessed myself.

Me. Who’s never second-guessed a thing in his life.

 _Poor impulse control_ \- I’ve heard this from teachers, the psychiatrist I was forced to see...

Fuck them. What they see as a character flaw has led me to kissing the cutest boy I’ve met in _forever_.

My hand has moved to your cheek. Resting so lightly - marvelling in the softness of your skin, the delicacy and sharpness of your cheekbone...

Your tongue moves against mine tentatively and I want to moan and sag against you, which is a weird thought - I’m significantly taller than you. I feel like a mighty tree, protecting you from any storm.

Speaking of which... we’re not exactly in the safest environment. Regretfully, I break off the kiss and pull my hands away from you.

“Not that I wouldn’t have wanted our first kiss to last longer...” I say in a rueful voice. “But... I don’t know how safe it is here. We can... talk and dance more if you like?”

I haven’t broached the subject of finding a quiet, secluded space... will you want to?

I touch your shoulder gently. “And if there were a second kiss in our future... You wouldn’t hear a complaint from me,” I say with a wink.

_Oh - you're pulling back? Why - oh. Yeah._

_That wasn't too smart, Jimmy..._

_But - you kissed me, didn't you?_

_Wait, first kiss??_

_*Second kiss??*_

_My ascent into happy clouds is crudely disrupted by a coarse shout in my ear._

_"Hey - fecking *poofters!*"_

_Really? Can't a guy have his first kiss in a shit club with a dreamy boy without being interrupted by fucking *boors?* I feel a growl rise in my throat as I look to the side, in time to see a hand fly towards your chest and push you. Your eyes grow dark and you punch, and a hand is flying towards me and I bash it away, and another hand is coming and people are shouting and fists are flying and then the bouncers are on us, bundling us and the other guys out of the club._

_I get a better look at our assailants - typical loutish mouth-breathers. Not fighters - just knackers who like to have a drunken punch-up outside the bar on a Saturday night. There's five of them, two of us -_

_they're hopelessly outnumbered._

_I grin; the first guy has a moment to look puzzled - and my head breaks his nose._

_To my right, I see your leg kick out._

_..._

_We're lying on a flat rooftop, leaning against a brick wall. You hand me a lit joint. There's blood on your knuckles. You grin. "You weren't wrong about the opportunities in the Bunker..."_

_I chuckle. "Hook-ups, punch-ups, you name it, they got it..."_

_"You're a good fighter," you say, appreciatively, looking at me. You don't say 'for a small guy'. I appreciate that._

_The fight... fuck, I didn't want it to end. I had this guy underneath me... bleeding... I could have gone until he was nothing but pulp._

_There's something inside me... only ever so slightly held in check by my need to stay under the radar, to lay low, to find Georgie... but that layer is wafer-thin, and if I let it go just slightly... there's no knowing where it will stop, how much I will destroy... *god* I want to. I shiver with the urge - but eventually they'd get me, and lock me up, and this time I would *not* get out..._

_I hand the joint back to you. It’s not calming me… if anything, it’s fuelling the fire inside. You lean closer… oh._

_Our second kiss?_

_Your lips touch mine –_

_\- and the fire *leaps* -_

_Before I can think I’m on top of you, teeth bash – blood – yours or mine? Who cares -_

_I grope, under t-shirt, over skin, at belt, and you do the same, your hands on me, pulling at my top; and I *need*, I *need*, hungrily I pant, suck, bite, and you moan, moan so beautifully and it fans the fire and I grasp, pull, reach, and there’s bare skin, and my nails dig in, breaking skin, pulling down, scratching; and my trousers have been opened and there’s a *hand* on my *cock* and I’m on *fire*; I grope dig reach and there is your cock, so beautiful, and your hand is moving and *fuck*, I bite your shoulder and it’s a good thing you’re wearing a leather jacket because I would have taken a chunk out; your hand is moving and my hand is moving and my other hand shoots up and grabs your throat, pushing you against the wall, and you stiffen but you *stiffen*, and I move and I press and you groan and you move and I bite and the fire *rages* and I *explode*…_

_And my hand is still pressing and moving and I feel you pour out over my hand –_

_And you are coughing –_

_And I could press some more –_

_So easy –_

_I jump back. Pull up my zip –_

_head to the edge of the roof, swing myself down, run –_

_I keep running for a very long time._


	3. Never Trust a Stranger

Everything that happens next is a blur...

One moment I’m flirting...

The next I’m in a punch-up, and getting thrown out from a club...

Then we’re fighting off attackers like we’re a bloody force of nature-

Like we’re a _we_...

Then _we_ are laughing and sharing a joint...

And _we_ are overcome by the longing to fuck and fight, scrambling to get a hold of each other... stroking... kissing... biting...

your hand on my throat... _oh_...

god... yes...

PleasureIntensityExplosionFuckYes

and then -

More pressure on my throat, oh shit-

But I don’t stop you, and suddenly I’m free and air is pouring painfully into my lungs and I’m coughing and you’re jumping up and I’m trying to speak but I’m stunned - and mute and - no -

I’m staring blankly at the spot where you just were -

This must be a mistake - a joke - a game -

I jump up, stuffing myself back into my trousers as I scan the alley beneath us.

No, not us - _me_.

It’s no mistake, Moran -

He’s gone.

I remain frozen for a moment, then I quickly fasten my trousers... straighten my clothes... jump down into the alley to look for you.

I return to the club... sneak in without incident.

You’re not inside, not in the toilets...

You’re really gone...

Two girls are coming up to me and I’m growling at them; _not in the fucking mood_...

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk towards the door, people bumping into me laughing and shouting.

I walk away, the events of the night cycling over and over in my head.

When I finally fall into a cab at god knows what hour, I sag against the door and stare out into the dark streets.

I sneak back into the manor, and Father’s fucking lucky he didn’t confront me, or I would have thrown him into the wall.

I close the door quietly, and sink into my bed... Thinking of Ricky No-Surname... and those few moments where my life made sense and everything felt bright and exciting and beautiful again...

and with grim determination I know I will return to the club every night that we’re here. I’ll stay behind if I have to. But I _will_ find him again. I _have to..._

I close my eyes, exhausted, and fall into a troubled sleep.

_I run for a long time, but finally the stitches in my side get too bad and I have to stop. I lean against a wall, panting, still wanting to run, to punch, to push, to lift this brick building up like Superman and smash the entire city with it, such *rage*..._

_When the stitches subside, I start running again, but no matter how fast I run, I can't get rid of the red haze in my head, the urge to kill or die, either will do._

_*Fuck*..._

_That fight got to me. So much aggression - pent up for so long. I've been in fights, yes, but they've been more about survival. This was just - for the sheer joy of it._

_And what a joy it was... I just knew you would be good on my side in a fight, and you *were*, you were beautiful; as graceful in a fight as in your dancing - and we were just as attuned…_

_I think of your face, under the coloured lights on the dance floor, outside during the scuffle, on the roof when I pushed you against the wall..._

_god..._

_You looked so - ecstatic surrendered *beautiful*..._

_My first kiss... god I had my first kiss..._

_... and it was interrupted by fucking knackers..._

_but they were punished for their audacity._

_I'm so - all over the place._

_I run all the way back home._

_When I get in, I'm still confused, but at least I'm sweaty and tired from the run. As well as sticky inside my pants..._

_I grab some clean clothes, get into the bathroom, put my old clothes into the sink with soap, then have a shower, as hot as it will go. It's not too bad in the middle of the night - during the day sometimes all that comes out is a trickle. I wash my clothes and hang them over the line over the bath to drip dry - saves on wrinkles. Then I put on clean pants and a t-shirt and cook up._

_As I fall into the mattress the last thing that follows me down are two impossibly blue eyes, pupils huge..._

I awake in the early afternoon.

Make an appearance downstairs. Am shouted at by Father for being an unmotivated layabout.

Ask what should be my motivation on holiday other than laying about.

Am shouted at more for being impudent and insolent.

Ask if ‘impertinent’ should be included as it fits so nicely with the other epithets, and I’ll be working on my application to Oxford next year and will need to include a written statement.

Laugh as the study door is slammed amidst much ranting and cursing.

Am reminded by my mother that we have another dinner tonight. And please don’t antagonize my father.

Feel guilty, then angry, then guilty.

Smoke a joint in the garden shed and don’t feel better.

Take off to the same area for a beer and in the hopes that I’ll see Ricky...

Go from pub to pub, drinking beer and looking for him.

Am disappointed and walk off my beer buzz before I search for a taxi.

Dinner with stuffed shirts. Again.

Fuck.

I slip into an alley to smoke another joint and feel worse when he doesn’t magically appear.

I hate my life.

_I wake up confused - my hands and jaw hurt -_

_Oh yes._

_A rush of images - with *emotions* -_

_A hand on my wrist - running._

_Punched in the alley - posh boy appearing - running._

_Dancing. In the Bunker._

_So close._

_A kiss._

_*A kiss*._

_A punch-up -_

_Oh god the roof. Pushing. Biting. Groping._

_*Coming*..._

_And running again..._

_My stomach hurts, my heart burns, my head throbs._

_Just a bit. Just to take the edge off._

_It's drizzling, and Sunday, so it's going to be quiet in town. We hang around. Some of the guys watch telly but it's insufferably dreary. I try to concentrate on my book - Sharky has a library card that he's given me, so I am reading everything I can get my hands on, currently Stephen Hawkins' A Brief History of Time, but it's just not captivating me. I head to the other room, trying to get some quiet, but find Jenny and Stu making out, and that then confuses me again..._

_Normally I never have time for such nonsense. Seems dirty and cumbersome. And none of the guys here are attractive._

_But *Sebastian*..._

_Thinking his name sends a tremble through my belly from bottom to top, to end in a hot mess in my stomach._

_Fucking hell._

_I force myself through Stephen Hawkins' rather unexciting prose, get myself some chips at dinner time, take a hit, get another pill from Bennie but determine to only take half - yesterday was a bit crazy -_

_It's 10 pm._

_"I'm going out."_

Dinner is shit. Good food, terrible company. Clones of Sir Clement & Company, by a different name. Lambert? Lambast? Whatever the fuck.

I’m on total auto-pilot, smiling woodenly and making polite inane conversation. It’s safer that way, otherwise I’m liable to say something truly awful. Of course they love me, and laugh at my snide jests as if they’re in on the joke... god, they really are incapable of seeing contempt if you play the game right.

There’s yet another daughter throwing bedroom eyes in my direction, and this one is home from university for the ball next week. Mum gives me a sly, knowing look, as if encouraging me. Jesus... already planning the wedding? Sorry, Mum... you have _no idea_ how bloody laughable it is to me - the thought that I would _ever_ marry a socialite... or _anyone_. As for this girl, I’d rather chew my own arm off and throw it at her.

I’m seated next to her and she’s whispering to me to meet her outside for a smoke. I smile in confusion as if I’m clueless about what she could possibly mean. I just pass her the bread first - and then the pepper mill, and then the salt - until she finally looks away in disgust.

So I manage to avoid the clutches of the young lady, which is good because I’m desperate for a fag. When I excuse myself after dinner, she makes a point of not looking at me. Aww... don’t break my heart, sweetheart...

I normally love hooking up with older women - they know what they’re doing and are far more likely to engage in kink than girls my age.

But as far as little Seb is concerned, it’s as if a pouty mannequin has been making eyes at me. It actually feels creepy to be flirted with for the first time in my life... like there’s not a girl on earth who could compare to the fascinating little shit who captivated me and then _ran off_.

I feel the determination from last night set in and my usual despair fall away.

You want to play hide and seek? Fine. Let’s play...

But I suspect you won’t stay hidden forever...

Later that night, as I’m stalking towards the Bunker, I wonder if you’re already there... waiting. Or if you’ll appear unexpectedly later.

The possibility of you not showing up is something I can’t even bring myself to consider. It’s too awful to contemplate.

_Bennie looks at me. I look back, daring him to challenge me, to say that I don't ever go out, let alone two nights in a row, that I didn't come back to the Sting yesterday and now sport a dark black bruise on my jaw, that I look ever so carefully casual, my hair tamed, stubborn spots covered with Jenny's concealer, wearing my best jeans and t-shirt, spent ages moving my jacket around so it sits just perfectly._

_Instead he waves a vague hand, mutters "Bye," and looks back at the telly._

_When I get to the Bunker, I tell my body to fucking *do one* - my stomach and throat are tight, my heart is pounding - am I getting sick? Not *now*..._

_Inside, I scan the punters. It's quieter than on Saturday, and easy to see everyone there._

_I buy a beer, looking at the entrance, which is also where the loos are. People go to the loo and come back._

_I take my beer into a dark corner, with a good view of the entrance._

_I'll stay until closing if I have to._

I enter the Bunker, relieved that security is different from last night.

God... I never realized before just how many eyes follow me when I walk into a room. I often just let them come to me, feeling them drawn to me like honey... other times, I enjoy the hunt. Selecting someone who seems like they would be highly enjoyable to spend a few hours with - or sometimes just a few special moments.

It does feel special to me... for as long as it lasts. Yesterday with that bitch in the gardening shed was a fluke. I’d feel a bit bad about it if she hadn’t been an utter cow.

I’m usually more of a sweetheart with girls. Guys always know what I’m there for... and neither of us are ever looking for hearts and flowers.

But you... well hearts and flowers are out of the picture for me, after the last disaster. I can’t go through that kind of horror again, and I made my solemn vow to myself and to - David. For what it’s worth. Which is nothing.

My jaw tightens and I head to the bar to order a beer.

But with you... I’m only here for a few days... I just want- I don’t know what I want.

I guess just to be with someone that makes me forget about the hell my life has become. Just for a few days to remember the person I used to be... something to get me through this last year before I leave for university, at last.

Anyway, I was totally right about you being skittish.

I muse as I drink my beer how to not scare you off again. Maybe I came on too intense? It was _a bit much,_ Moran, I chide myself.

Maybe... it was your first time with a guy? Or first time at all?? Nah... you knew what you wanted and what you were doing.

OK, so just take it easy and don’t scare the poor guy off, I tell myself firmly. I can be casual. Jesus, that’s all I _ever_ do; it shouldn’t be difficult.

Just then I spot you, and my lips part and I’m up and crossing the space to go to you. Oh v _ery good_... nothing says casual like stalking towards someone like a predatory cat.

I slow my pace, but I’m halfway there and I can’t exactly stop now can I?

You’re staring at me, and I need to be near those sulky lips... maybe I can make you smile again.

Fuck it. I cross the rest of the distance quickly, and hit you lightly with my shoulder.

“Have we met before?” I say with a wry smile.

_I'm not enjoying the music. It seems heavier than yesterday, and I don't know any of the tracks, nor would I want to dance to them._

_I am just sitting, scanning the people. Boring, the lot of them. Stuck in their dead-end existence, trying to snare a fuck, a momentary escape; or on the prowl for a partner for life to escape this place with; or looking for an outlet for aggression... the guys from yesterday aren't here, fortunately. Not sure I could take them on my own, though I probably could distract them for long enough to run._

_*He's not coming.*_

_Who's not coming?_

_*Don't play coy with yourself, Jimmy. Why would he come? You were a little shit.*_

_He came hard enough._

_*Of course he did. His cock was being pulled. But before that, you bit him, scratched his skin open - he's probably gone to get a tetanus shot today. Not to mention the choking. What psycho does that?*_

_This psycho. Thanks for reminding me of the psychiatrist's diagnosis, but I am well aware of it._

_*Yeah, well. That psycho should not expect people to come back for his special brand of heavy petting. No one but another psycho-*_

_*He's here.*_

_He's walking to the bar._

_Keep calm Jimmy._

_He's just here to dance._

_It's the only place he knows around here. He likes the music._

_He's probably hoping that that girl from yesterday will be here again._

_He's seen you._

_He's walking over._

_What do I do?_

_Stay cool. This is your local, for all he knows. You're just sitting here, enjoying the music, taking a break from dancing._

_"Hey."_

I’m not sure you’re happy to see me, but - you don’t give away a lot, do you. That’s alright. You can feel whatever you feel, and I’ll stay in your orbit for as long as you’ll have me.

Fuck’s sake, Seb... so much for keeping things _casual_.

Whatever. He’s _here_.

Fighting back giddiness, I hold up my beer.

“Buy you a drink?”

Shit. I can’t fucking read you. What if you want to be alone... or to meet someone new?! You don’t _seem_ like a player. God, wouldn’t that just be fucking karmic.

FuckFuckFuck.

...

Fuck.

_I look at my bottle - about a third left. I'll neck it._

_"Sure," I say._

_Well that's not very polite is it Jimmy._

_"Thanks," I remember, but you're already walking away._

_*Great Jimmy. He's bound to *love* you.*_

_Well, he came back, didn't he..._

_*It's not like he knows anyone else in here.*_

_Well he could just - dance on his own. Or drink on his own. Someone is bound to come up to him - he's hot._

_Instead, he came to me._

_I recall last night, and feel my face flush, my groin stir._

_Fucking hell..._

At the bar as I wait for my order, my heart is starting to race. I drink the rest of my beer in an effort to calm down.

What the _fuck_ , Seb... it’s just a cute guy. You can handle this.

Just a cute guy who makes me feel something... and I thought I wasn’t capable of feeling anything... ever again.

Anyway. It’s _moot_. I’m not going to go there, so relax. That’s why this is so perfect - the expiration date is looming. When his Lordship decides his business affairs are concluded, we’ll be heading back to London. We’ll be here at least until that hideous ball I agreed to attend, to make Mum happy. The last fucking one - thank Christ.

So have fun while you can.

With the most fascinating guy you’ve ever met.

And don’t _fucking fall for him_. Idiot.

I pay for your beer and a second one for me, and take a deep breath. Then I light up a cigarette before turning around with bottles in hand. I force myself to walk slowly and steadily towards you, cigarette hanging from my lips. I’m told I have a sexy, swaggering walk, and knowing its effect on people I’ve definitely worked it - this is one of those times.

Did you notice??

My eyes flicker over you, and I feel a spike of pleasure.

You noticed, I think with relief.

_You get your beers, walk back over -_

_*Fucking hell.*_

_If someone had asked me to describe my ultimate fantasy, which I *don't have*, the *dream boy* I know better than allow myself -_

_All aswagger, tight jeans hiding *nothing*, a beer in each hand, a burning cigarette hanging from your mouth -_

_*God* you're sex on legs -_

_and you can hold your own in a fight, you let yourself be bitten and choked and you *came so hard* and then *came back* -_

_I take a deep swig from my remaining beer, swallow. Thank fuck it's too dark in here for you to see how flushed I've got._

_You reach our corner, hand me a beer, clink your bottle against mine. "Cheers."_

_"Cheers," I manage._

_Another swig. Bottle empty. New bottle. New swig._

_Now what._

_Say something Moriarty._

_"So you enjoy" *seeing me* "this place, then?"_

“Oh, it’s growing on me -“

I scan you with a grin.

“-if you can’t tell.”

I take a sip of my beer, hiding my widening smile.

“The vibe is so intense...” I murmur, wiping my mouth. “So raw...”

I turn to look at you. “Do you like it?” I ask in a husky voice.

_Fucking hell. He's looking me up and down. Undressing me with his eyes._

_Putting me on the back foot. I don't like that._

_But - he's *so. hot.*_

_His voice whispers through me, making me tremble -_

_"Back to the roof? I won't run away after, this time." I hear myself say._

_*What the hell did you just -*_

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes - something cold and dark. Did I see that right??

But in an instant it’s gone - you’re gazing at me, and there’s nothing remotely cold about you. I feel myself flush.

And then- ohh. Fuck.

“Yeah, I’d - like that...” I say, blinking. I lift my chin in the direction of the door. “After you...”

_*did I just-*_

_Wait._

_Did *you* just -_

_My heart is racing. Ears are roaring. Not with the music. Blood rushing._

_Beer. Drink. Swallow._

_Another sip. Swallow again._

_Right._

_Lead the way, Moriarty..._

_Fuck, this is happening... again..._

_You *liked it*..._

_It's only now that I notice the bruises in your neck -_

_*My* bruises..._

_I put down my beer, stand up, start walking. I can feel you behind me._

_The world feels funny. Like - it's all slightly electric. Like all surfaces are buzzing. All colours are technicolor. Every step I take is a sensation that I'm usually not aware of - god, it's just *walking* Jimmy._

_We ascend the stairs, get outside. The fresh air doesn't clear my head at all._

_You walk beside me, not speaking, just close by, comfortable._

_We ascend the drainpipe, settle back into our spot. Yesterday's abandoned joint is still lying there, soggy from the rain earlier._

_I could dry it out._

_Not now, Jimmy._

_There is a gorgeous boy beside you. Looking at you with those incredible eyes. Waiting for you to - do something._

_What I did yesterday? But - that was after a fight - I had all that aggression -_

_*There's so much aggression inside, but if I let it out -*_

_You're closer._

_Yes._

_That's what normal people do._

_Kiss first._

As we head to the roof, you seem unsure of yourself, conflicted - I sense something roiling under your surface, but I don’t know what it is.

When we arrive at the spot, I gaze at you.

Whatever I’m sensing in you seems to be increasing...

Lust... violence... wanting nothing at all... wanting too much...?

 _Are your insides like mine?_ I find myself thinking.

 _Fuck_... I feel the same longing to sag against you as I did yesterday.

Take from me what you will...

But I’m still, silent. _You_ lead - whatever you want. If you stay for five minutes and curse at me and then run off again, it’ll still be the best night I’ve had in two years.

Second best, I think to myself, remembering yesterday. Your hands on me... your lips...

Those lips...

I’m moving closer, shit, can’t stop don’t want to ever stop...

Lips moving against mine, exploring... almost curiously.

Yes - be curious with me. Then take me apart at the seams...

_This is so weird... you're older, bigger, definitely more experienced, but you're so - receptive, like you're waiting for me to take the reins._

_Don't offer yourself up to me, honey... you don't know who I am..._

_But somehow, you *do*, and you like what you see..._

_The kiss makes the fire flare up again, though less raging than yesterday, more in control -_

_Make it last -_

_*Fuck*, the things I'd like to do with you - would you? Would I?_

_I'm pressing my mouth onto yours - I don't think this is how kissing is supposed to go, in films it seems to be softer and with less aggression and blood, but your lip was *right there* and it was only a little nip..._

_And you groan, and thrust your pelvis against mine - oh *fuck* -_

I think this hanging back and letting you lead thing is working... you're growing more confident, your hands are gripping me, your kiss...

God, your _kiss_...

I feel your teeth again, breaking my skin - fuuuck, yes, so good...

I want us to bite and claw each other like wild animals...

I want us to tear into each other, not hold back like I've always had to with everyone, even bigger men - because I was afraid of how far I'd go.

As for how far _you'll_ go, it's less fear and more of a deep thrill rising in me from some dark primal part of myself that I have not dared to uncover - yet.

But it's there. It's always there.

Howling. Flinging itself at the bars of its cage until it’s bruised and bloody. Roaring out its rage and pain.

Yes... you do understand, don't you.

I feel like I'm swimming in a current, trying to keep my head above water, and then slipping under the surface.

I hear myself groan, and then I'm _thrusting_ against you with my groin.

My hands tighten on your hips, but still I hold back from doing more. I just stare at you, breathing hard, feeling blood trickle from my lip.

I drag my knuckle over it, and look down - then I lick the trail of blood from my skin.

_Your eyes - so large. There's a violence there *just* underneath -_

_are you like me?_

_Well - not like me, of course, but - maybe just a bit -_

_you did enjoy that fight yesterday. But you won't fight me - which is good, I guess, because I'm pretty sure you would win._

_And you don't *want* to win..._

_god, if I could direct that violence... keep you around, unleash you at those who are in my way... we'd be invincible..._

_shut it, Moriarty. You can't keep him._

_on a leash..._

_*Jimmy*. Stop it._

_You're just so *hot* - you make my brain see funny things._

_I'm groping at you, pulling - I want to see *skin* - pull off your jacket, up your t-shirt -_

_so *gorgeous* - muscular, tanned, fucking *beautiful* -_

_don't bite don't bite -_

_oh alright then but only a little - no one likes having a full mouthful taken out of them -_

_oh the groaning - thrusting up your pelvis again, pulling me against you -_

_a slight trickle of blood - oh *fuck*_

You strip me of my jacket and then my shirt is pushed up and there’s something about air on bare skin that feels so good...

and hands on bare skin feel so _hot_...

And then you’re biting me again, and god, I know I decided to take it as slow as you want, but my body has its own ideas about what’s ‘slow’.

And by all the thrusting going on, apparently little Seb wants to insert himself into this scenario one way or another...

Fuck...

I slide my hand under your shirt and feel the muscles of your torso, lean and firm... and so close to the bone.

Are you eating enough? I wonder to myself as my fingers trail over your ribs.

But then you bite my neck and grind your pelvis against mine, and little Seb jumps to attention.

My hands have stopped their exploring and are now gripping your hips.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “I _want_ you...”

_No -_

_*I* want *you*._

_I move up, look at your eyes - glazed, hungry - you will do as I say -_

_will you?_

_only one way to find out -_

_I grab your hair, kiss you again, tasting the blood, fuck, so *good*, I didn't know I had vampiric tendencies; then I move to your side, open my trousers, push them down, as well as my pants, and pull you over by the hair -_

_\- you're not protesting - you're letting yourself be pulled -_

_\- oh -_

_\- oh *god* -_

You’re looking at me closely, making a decision...

_God.. please... more..._

and then -

Hands in my hair as you kiss and lick the blood from my mouth, then I feel you fumbling with clothing, and suddenly your fingers are twisting in my hair and I’m being dragged towards your pelvis, where I briefly catch a glimpse of your cock - hard, white, like glowing marble - before my lips part and I do as god intended to be done to such a beautiful cock.

 _Made to be sucked_ , I think as I get to work exploring what you like.

 _By me_ , I hear in a dreamy whisper in the back of my mind.

I don’t spend too much time thinking about that, when I have other things to focus on, the silky feeling of your skin, the faint cinnamony taste...

Beautiful, I think as my tongue drags along the shaft, then swirls around the perfectly formed head. You’re like the statue of a young god, and I imagine stripping you naked... fanning you on a divan... putting a cup of wine to your lips.

You’re not making a lot of noise but your breathing has changed. As I begin a slow steady rhythm, I hear your breath hitch in your throat and a muffled moan.

I smile around your cock, glowing at the positive feedback.

I always like to ensure my partners are fully enjoying themselves as a rule... but this is significant - this is _personal_ to me.

I want you to experience the heights of pleasure.

I want you to come back for more.

I want you to _want me_...

Like I want you...

for however long we have.

_Oh god he's doing it -_

_Oh god -_

_This is - fuck -_

_My fingers tighten in your hair, my other hand grasping for purchase on the rough surface of the roof, failing that, moving to my mouth where I stuff it to avoid making too much noise -_

_wouldn't want anyone to come and disturb - *this* -_

_fuck how can *anything* feel like this - no wonder people are always chasing after it - fuck so good so good *so good* -_

_My hand presses on your head - deeper faster god please - more –_

Here above the street, we feel so Above it all -

Above the soot and grime of the city...

the normal people with their normal lives and goals and desires...

and the lives waiting for us Below.

I suspect yours lies in ruins, just as horrifying and devastating as mine...

But here in this Moment that stretches to Forever, we remain Above.

Here we are gods, and we are beautiful.

I feel your fingers tightening in my hair, the straining and trembling of your muscles, the urging of your hand, more more _more_...

Aw, sweetheart... I’ll give you More...

I increase the speed and intensity...

My fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, pressing my nails in just enough...

Your sharp intake of breath and quiet moan is like a treasure, unearthed from a hiding spot that no one knew existed... I’m beginning to suspect not even you.

Not that I think you had no sexual experience... but... something tells me the first time you felt genuine pleasure may have been with _me_.

And I take this thought and with a contented sigh, I tuck it away within my heart.

_Yes - oh god yes -_

_*Fuck* you are amazing -_

_You skilfully lick and move and suck and my brain just *stops*, all the blood required for its functioning momentarily occupied elsewhere, fuck I want more of this, I want this all the time, I'm going to kidnap you and lock you in a cellar - naked - on a chain -_

_\- oh fuck -_

_I groan against my hand, dig my nails into your scalp, push into your mouth - fuck - oh *god* -_

_Pleasure gathers from every spot in the universe to gather in my testicles, who can't sustain all this, so *push*... and liquid ecstasy pumps through me, flowing into you, your rightful well-earned prize, in spasm after spasm as I writhe and moan, my heart racing, my breath fast -_

_*fuuuuuuck...*_

You’re getting closer, I know it... not long now...

It’s amazing to think this will be the second time I experience your orgasm.

And this is so much more _intimate_ , your cock pushing back and forth in my mouth, as a rumble of pleasure sounds in my throat.

So good...

When the muscles in your thighs begin to shiver, I brace myself. And mere moments later you’re shooting your pleasure down my throat as you shudder and writhe against me - I hold you up, one arm around your lower back, the other grasping your hip. God, your _sounds_... so much freer and louder than the first time... if I’m granted a third time, what sounds might I hear then?

I swallow and raise my head. When I reach into my pocket for a wet wipe, my fingers bump against the condoms and lube I keep stashed at all times.

I’m not sure I’ll have the opportunity to use these with you, and I have no idea how to broach the subject for once in my life. I feel like we’ve achieved a very delicate balancing act between us, and one wrong move could send you scurrying off - again. Or punching me in the throat and disappearing forever. I can’t risk that.

Every moment I spend with you feels like I’m storing good feelings, _aliveness_ , to face my return to London and the life that feels utterly dead to me.

I hand you the wet wipe and lean back against the wall, looking away discreetly as you clean yourself off and pull up your trousers.

“Smoke?” I ask you, digging through my pocket for my lighter and pack of fags.

_Oh holy fuck Mary mother of Christ..._

_I'm breathing madly around my wrist, which has some bite marks -_

_I guess I can take it out of my mouth now -_

_Fuck -_

_\- you *swallowed* -_

_Where did you *come* from, angel cast from heaven?_

_Slowly my wits gather into my brain again, my heart stops racing *quite* as madly, and I look at you - I must look like a demented madman, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks -_

_You hand me a wet wipe and turn away - oh my god the perfect gentleman..._

_I wipe myself off and stuff my rapidly shrinking and madly swooning cock back into my pants, zip up my jeans._

_*Fuck. Me.*_

_And - now you're offering me a *smoke*?_

_But - what about you?_

_Don't you want - oh no, you definitely *want*. Those jeans are stretched to capacity._

_I should reciprocate - but - do I do the same? Or - should I do what I did yesterday? Or - hmmm..._

_I nod at the cigarette. "In a moment, thanks."_

_I pick up your t-shirt, put it back over your head. You look surprised, make to take it from me, to dress yourself, looking disappointed - no, my dear Sebastian, I'm not sending you off..._

_I shake my head, twist the fabric round itself a few times, then pull open the armholes just enough - there._

_I raise your arm, move your wrist back, pull it through the tightly wound armhole, then do the same with the other wrist._

_Now your hands are caught in your shirt and pressed against the back of your neck. If you relax that pose, you'll put pressure on the front of your neck._

_Not bad for spontaneously improvised bondage. Of course you could wriggle out of it quite easily if this is not your thing - but from the look on your face, this is very much your thing..._

_I press my hand against your throat and kiss you, then move down across that gorgeous expanse of chest. Nip at the nipples, then liberate that poor cock from its denim prison. It looks very pleased to see me again..._

_I lick my lips, take it in my mouth._

You hold off on the cigarette for now, and I’m confused as you start to put my t-shirt back on me. I can deal with finishing myself off later, but obviously I can put my own shirt- oh, what are you-

_Oh?_

...

 _Bondage?_ Jesus, how much more perfect could you get?

Suddenly you’re on me, your lips on mine, hand on my throat...

god... yes...

biting me... pulling my cock out...

and oh... _oh god_...

...

Holy _fuck_...

I’m done for...

_You are rock hard and I get to work, and am rewarded with the most *delicious* sounds and shudders..._

_While you are obediently staying put in your t-shirt bonds. Aw, you're being so good for me... you deserve this reward._

_This is so different from sucking a cock for money. That is always slightly nauseating, even if the cock is clean. But mostly it feels - demeaning. A subservient position, and I hate it._

_But there is nothing subservient about this. This is empowering fellatio... I have you in the palm of my hand; you're mine, and with every lick of my tongue you become more entrenched in my web..._

_A bit of extra pressure there... ohhh, yes, give me those whimpers, baby..._

Oh god oh god...

Blow jobs from random partners are _nothing_ compared to this... this _magnificent_ cocksucking by this beautiful fucking boy I can’t take my eyes off. Except my head keeps falling back and my eyes keep closing, no, I want to see him... oh... god...

Not going to last- long-

Fuuuuck-

_That's it honey... give me that *look*... those big blue eyes dark and desperate... begging me for pleasure..._

_I'm magnanimous, I will bestow it, you deserve it..._

_My hand cups your balls, I take you in deep - I can feel it building - moving quickly, regular movements, steady pressure -_

_*there we are*..._

_those are some beautiful sounds you're making, my dear. Do *try* to keep quiet, we don't want any curious people disturbing our moment of fun._

_I swallow and keep moving my mouth until you *mewl* and pull away, panting, your eyes huge._

_I lick my lips, like the cat who got the cream - literally..._

Oh _god_...

I lean back against the wall, breathing raggedly, my skin feeling slightly damp...

“That was-“ I gasp, and try to control my breathing. “ _god_ -“

You lightly touch a knuckle to the corner of your mouth, which is the most elegant post-blowjob gesture I’ve ever seen - almost feline. You watch me with curiosity, and I smile at you breathlessly.

“Fucking - amazing, if you couldn’t tell...” I sit up, trying to gesture with my hands and realize I’m still trussed up with my t-shirt. I lean back regarding your sly smile.

“So... am I your prisoner now? Or will you be setting me free? Just curious,” I sigh contentedly, giving you a lopsided grin.

_Why thank you. Good to get the recognition I deserve._

_Oh..._

_Don't *tempt* me, Sebastian..._

_In a second I have constructed a dungeon on this rooftop, with you in a cage, chained up, naked, ready to be taken out when I want you..._

_"What a great idea. I've never had a prisoner of my own, to do with what I want when I want it..." I purr, trailing a fingernail across your chest._

_"Just stay put, and I'll get some chains to tie you to that pipe with. Might get a few raised eyebrows in the morning, but I'm sure a posh clever boy like you would have no problem talking himself out of that, would you?"_

Ohh, someone has a dark imagination... god, if the thought doesn't practically get me hard again, especially when your nail drags over my chest.

I raise an eyebrow at posh clever boy, and smirk at the rest.

"Oh, grand. I'll just tell them I was taken prisoner fair and square, and they'd better piss off before my keeper returns and has their guts for garters. I'll be proper scary, trust me - you won't have any issues." I stare at you with half-closed eyes, enjoying the gleam in yours.

_*My keeper*. Too cute..._

_Fuck this. I don't even have a *bed* to tie you to... if I were to take you home, which I won't. The last thing you need to see is a dirty squat with a varying number of junkies. You're not like most posh punk boys, who like to kick against the establishment and wear the outfit, as long as they get to sleep between fresh linen and don't have to smell anything too unpleasant - but I don't want you to see how I live._

_Shame, Jimmy?_

_I shouldn't be living in a squat like that. And once I've found Georgie I'll get us a better place to live._

_*Anyway.* You're on a rooftop with a hot guy. Not quite yet at the stage where you need to think about taking him home - or vice versa. That would be fun - 'Mama, papa, this is my new boyfriend. He's a junkie psychopathic thief - isn't he *gorgeous?*'._

_I chuckle. I better untie you - but it hasn't escaped my attention that you have been obediently staying bound..._

_I scoot up, pull at the t-shirt, lift your wrists out and pull it over your head, shake it out, then lean against the wall next to you._

_"Is that cigarette still on offer? I really fancy something hot to suck..."_

My lips twist in amusement. “Mmm. I know the feeling...”

I grab a wet wipe from my jacket pocket to clean myself off. Then I tuck myself back into my jeans, not bothering with the t-shirt just yet. You seem appreciative of the view, and I am truly enjoying being on display for you.

Then I swipe up the lighter and cigarette that had fallen to the side before the most epic cocksucking of my life. Carefully I dust them off, light up, and offer the smoke to you first.

Seeing your lips part to slide in the cigarette, and then blow out smoke is poetry in motion.

God, when can I see you again? Thank Christ it’s summer and you won’t be in school. But maybe you have a summer job?

Be cool, Seb... don’t act like a lovesick puppy...

“I’m here for another week, but it could be a bit longer...” I tell you, taking the offered cigarette and inhaling. I leave the cigarette dangling from my lips as the smoke plumes out about my head and into the night sky.

“Can I see you again?”


	4. Good Life

_I enjoy the feel and taste of the smoke in my mouth, still a bit numbed from the sperm - why does sperm feel slightly numbing? I should research that... I wonder if the library has any books..._

_I hand the cigarette back to you. Seeing you smoke is even better than smoking myself - you look like a sex god incarnate at any time, but with a cigarette in your mouth, smoke drifting around your head... fuck, I wish I had a camera - instead I'm fixing the image into my mind map. And then you *talk*, emitting little clouds of smoke as you do so, the cigarette wobbling in the side of your mouth - I'm recording *that* for perpetuity, putting it in my 'Sebastian' file with a big 'Do Not Remove' stamp all over it._

_*Another week*. Such a stretch of opportunity -_

_so impossibly short -_

_*Can I see you again?*_

_Why does that question paralyse me? I am *this* close to jumping off the roof again and running away - why??_

_He's just here for a few days Jimmy - it's alright - it won't distract you from your mission -_

_*Why? What good does it do?*_

_Well - he's a great cocksucker, for a start..._

_*That's not important. Nothing is important except getting Georgie back.*_

_Having my cock sucked is not going to prevent me from getting Georgie back. It may actually help - make me less wound up -_

_I take the cigarette back, suck in the smoke, feel its soothing effect, let it out again._

_"Yeah, sounds good."_

Oh shit... are you actually considering whether or not you want to?

A note of panic rises in my chest, as you struggle to answer.

God. Fuck. What’s wrong?? Why wouldn’t you want to!!

And then -

I almost fall against the ground at your answer.

 _He said yes, he said YES_ trumpets through my mind immediately.

Jesus fucking Christ, Moran... are you a fifteen-year-old girl? Calm the fuck down...

however this feels, it’s a summer fling... I’m going to Oxford next year, and I’m hardly going to come back to Dublin during holidays...

Right?

My heart leaps at the thought. But - maybe -

 _Shut. Up._ I tell myself firmly.

“Cool.” I say, taking the cigarette you hold out, feeling a spark when our fingers touch.

We sit smoking in silence for a few moments under the night sky. There are more stars here than in London. But we could be in an abandoned factory and it would still be more beautiful to me than any rose-filled garden.

I stub out my cigarette. I need to nail this down in case you disappear again... “When?” I ask quietly, looking up at the stars.

_When?_

_*Don't leave* -_

_Don't be silly Jim._

_When._

_I still have some money left, but I should make some more soon; this will only last me tomorrow. Unfortunately getting punters is usually best done around this time - after dark but not too late. I could try stealing another wallet, but it's *so* risky - if I get caught, I'm fucked. And I guess if I steal *your* wallet, you won't want to meet up again..._

_Between eleven and midnight seems to be when you get out of your parents' clutches, judging from yesterday and today._

_I could try to get a punter before midnight, and then meet you afterwards, I guess? And I'll also have to go to Our Lady of the Assumption..._

_So - get money tomorrow; try to get several punters. Not ideal on a Monday though. Still - see what I can do. Then go to Our Lady of the Assumption during the night._

_Then meet up with you…_

_"Tuesday work for you? Around midnight?"_

I struggle to keep my face composed. This is a real plan... a day and time.

A _date_.

My heart races.

I try to recall my parents’ social calendar for the week, then mentally toss it aside.

Jesus... they could have arranged a fox hunt with the Queen Tuesday at midnight, and there’s no way I’m missing out on a date with the fascinating little thief before me...

Who’s waiting for an answer, looking bemused.

I nod quickly.

“Cool for me.”

If it’s midnight, I guess we’re not going to do any traditional date activities. Fine by me. I want to really connect with you, not at the cinema or across from each other in a restaurant.

“Where should I meet you?”

_Oh - where._

_Hm._

_I may have an idea. I'll have to check it out Tuesday._

_"You know Broadstone Station?"_

_You nod._

_"Meet me outside there."_

“Alright...”

I don’t know what to say... Not because I couldn’t carry on a pleasant conversation if I wanted - I could, in the middle of a fiery apocalypse... I’m just that well trained.

But somehow I don’t think it will impress. And I have the sense that conversation with you is like a minefield - I don’t want to say the wrong thing, or ask one too many questions, and have you take off... and possibly cause you to not show up Tuesday.

In fact, I’m a bit ahead of the game here... and with my tendency to say whatever crosses my mind when I’m relaxed - maybe I should quit now while I’m ahead?

“I should be getting back,” I say ruefully. “Too many late nights... and my life will be hell on earth.”

I stretch out my arms briefly and then throw on my t-shirt and jacket.

“It’s been -“ I murmur, watching my hand hover over your shoulder. “- a rare pleasure,” I finish, and lightly stroke your jacket once.

I stand up and get onto the ledge.

“Hey,” I say, looking back.

“What?” you ask, watching me closely.

“No standing me up,” I say with a lazy smirk, and drop to the ground.

_Oh - is late nights an issue? Should we meet during the day? Riskier - too many people about, looking at everything you do. Nights is better._

_I watch you drop off the roof._

_My stomach is shouting at me to call you back, which is stupid. What are we going to do? Cuddle up? Share bedtime stories?_

_You have a home to get to. Parents who shouldn't get upset._

_I take a tissue from my pocket, pick up the discarded joint, roll it in the tissue, gently put it in the pen case I use to carry my works in - I'll put it on the radiator when I get home and it will be right as - well._

_I jump off the roof, get the bus home._

_Take a shot._

_Fall asleep._

_I think I smiled for a bit there._

I feel like I’m floating in the cab ride home... and when I slip into the manor... and when I pass by Father who’s exiting the kitchen with a glass of something definitely not water... and when he says something judgmental and I wish him sweet dreams and he looks taken aback and irritated... and finally when I fall into my bed.

I don’t need a joint or a flask to fall asleep tonight.

I stretch out in bed, thinking of the darkness of your eyes that speak of mysteries I long to touch... or at least be near.

I don’t need to know your secrets... I just need more of whatever this is. I feel myself drifting off and I sigh contentedly.

_Oh - Sebastian has joined me. How did he get in my bed? He must have followed me home..._

_he doesn't mind the surroundings, and the others have left, so it's just you and me... and you're kissing me again and it's so sweet and gentle, so unlike before, but now we have the time, we have all night..._

_Your hand sneaks under my t-shirt..._

_Wait._

_That's not a dream._

_There is a hand under my t-shirt._

_And it's not Sebastian._

_I wake up, grab the hand, which has crept up to my pen case -_

_"Vinny!!"_

_You little *shit* - little *rat* -_

_I jump up, push him over, leap on top of him with a growl -_

_\- grab his t-shirt and punch his face - his nose starts leaking blood, he screams -_

_\- well damn right you scream you little fecking *thief* -_

_I punch and punch but there are arms in the way, people shouting, lifting me off him, Vinny screaming and crying, me trying to get back to him, but too many grabbing hands and restraining arms are preventing me. "Jimmy! Calm down, you eedjit!" Stu screams in my ear, and alright, I'll calm down, because there's not a lot else I can do, is there, the little rat being protected by the herd, Jenny cleaning off the blood and tears, telling him it doesn’t look too bad._

_I say his name._

_He looks up at me._

_He looks like shit, even without the blood and tears. Still. You don't go and steal someone's gear from under their shirt. Well. At least not mine._

_I look at him. I can feel my eyes glowing._

_"Vinny. If you *ever* touch my gear again, I will kill you. That's a promise.”_

_A pungent smell; Jack jumps back from where he was holding Vinny. "Jeesus!"_

_Little fecker pissed himself._

In the morning (well, early afternoon) I awake to find a lovely note and a house empty of parents. Father’s business prospects are going well, so he’ll be busy throughout the week. Mum is visiting with some Baroness who has a summer home just outside of Dublin, and they’re doing a dress fitting for the ball - so I’ve unexpectedly been left to my own devices. Which means I get to relax all day, and don’t have to kill time looking at shops.

Although it would have been exciting, the prospect of bumping into you again...

Anyway - I think some extreme lazing is in order. My time with you last night has put me in remarkably good spirits. Fuck, I wish I was seeing you tonight.

But - I don’t want to push. It feels like a miracle I’ve got this far with you, with your propensity to run away.

I wander downstairs to the kitchen, suddenly starving - and I’m met by the chef who takes my order for a full Irish breakfast, and sends me packing.

I normally love a full English, but - Ireland has been _so_ delicious to me.

So I think it’s time we get better acquainted...

_The rest head off, taking Vinny to the bathroom, or going back to their beds. As no one seems inclined to clean up Vinny's piss, I go to the kitchen and get cleaning gear. I hate filth - I hate being dirty, and I hate the squalor in which I live. Once I get Georgie, I'll get us a nice house, with clean people. In both senses of the word._

_Finally I fall back into bed, and sleep until mid-morning. The pain comes, but it's almost an expected thing, so I just say 'hi' to it and take a hit, then go back to sleep - I'll have a long night._

After breakfast, I go exploring - it’s the kind of house I can’t stand. Like my own - big, ostentatious and more of a showpiece than anything resembling a home. I grew up feeling like I was in a museum - and when I visited the homes of some of my school mates who were on scholarship, I understood why.

I glance into all the rooms on the main floor, and carry on. Until I reach the library and pore through the books on display. I don’t feel like reading at the moment, but it would be good to see what’s available.

Military histories - tada!

I slide out a volume to take with me.

Then I find a small homey study with a shelf of videos, a sofa, and a TV and VCR.

I take Apocalypse Now, and slide it into the VCR. Then I throw myself onto the sofa, and settle in for an afternoon of lying about, enjoying violence and death.

_When I wake up it's close to dinner time. Stu and I get fish and chips and then go hang out on the street. It's early, most people are more comfortable after dark, but maybe someone fancies an after-work quickie, and who would we be to deny them?_

_Stu is lucky, gets a punter in twenty minutes, who takes him away in his car. I note down the number plate - not that I won't remember, but it's important that the guy sees me do it. He looks alright though - pater familias, had a hard day at work, wants to blow off some steam before going to his annoying family. Stu's back in half an hour, and we hang around. It's ever so slowly getting darker._

After Apocalypse Now, I do some light reading about Britain’s history in Afghanistan, and then watch several spy films. Some of the cloak-and-dagger stuff looks like fun - although there’s something to be said for direct engagement. I like the idea of blowing up an enemy camp with an RPG, or better still - hand to hand combat. God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to just _unleash_ on someone, and not have to hold back one iota of the firestorm I have raging inside me...

Shoving aside this thought, I help myself to the snacks that I had the cook send out for. If they’re not giving me access to the kitchen, then they can bloody well get me a packet of crisps. It’s meaningless to them, really - they’re used to catering to the whims of sulking aristocrats. I would have been happy with rustling up some beans on toast for myself, but no - everyone agrees it won’t do for the son of a lord to sully himself by operating a toaster. I get enough of that at home; I was hoping to have some more leeway on holiday. Should have known they’d stay at a bloody manor with full-time staff... the only time the kitchen is left unattended is when the staff leaves for the night. Not that Daddy Dearest can afford this, but - I guess that’s what these mysterious business prospects are all about. I should question him about the nature of these businesses next time we have guests for dinner. He’d _love_ that...

I’m trying to keep from thinking too much about Ricky, and I’m somewhat successful - although it feels like I’m actively not-thinking about Ricky.

Partway through yet another spy film, I’m closing my eyes for a brief rest. And suddenly Ricky is there, crawling over me.

How did he find me, I think in amazement. And how did he get in the house?

“There’s no end to what I can do,” he informs me, and licks my throat.

I moan, and feel my hands grasp his luscious bottom.

“Sebastian? Why are there crisps all over the carpet?” he demands, his voice growing higher.

“What?” I ask, confused.

He smirks at me, and gets up.

“Wait - don’t leave-“ I protest.

“Seba-a-astian,” he calls and slips out the door.

I roll over on the sofa to chase after him, and suddenly find myself landing hard on the floor. Blinking, I look down at the carpet strewn with crisps, and up at my mother standing in the doorway.

“I fell asleep,” I say thickly, and she sighs.

“I see that. Please clean up that mess, Sebastian - the servants have left and your father will be home before too long.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“How was your day, dear?” she inquires, already heading through the door.

“Great! I ordered several escorts and we had an ill-advised sex-and-drugs orgy,” I call after her. “And then we plotted to overthrow the government.”

“Not at all amusing, Sebastian...” she chides.

I smirk as I clean up the crisps. I disagree - _I’m_ certainly amused. And also tempted to put the crisp fragments in the pockets of my father’s jacket, but then I think better of it. I head back to my room to smoke a joint leaning out the window - then I’ll have a wank while fantasizing about Ricky...

_I manage to get a customer, and Stu has another one. Forty quid richer, Stu is ready to head home. I only have fifteen, but it's getting late. I tell him I'll be heading off elsewhere, and he nods, waves, eager to get home to Bennie._

_I take the bus to a few stops from Our Lady of the Assumption, walk the rest of the way. It's cloudy, not cold, but there's no one about. One guy walking his dog far away, otherwise the area is deserted._

_I think that I should be able to feel if Georgie is here. Some kind of - spider-sense; one of the windows glowing green as he comes up on my radar… But that's nonsense, and I know it._

_I won't allow myself to think about what if. I've done my planning, now focus on one step ahead._

_Don't think about - if you find his name - see what room he's in - walk in there, sneak to his bed, put your hand on his mouth so he doesn't cry out - his large eyes when he recognizes you -_

_*I said DON'T*_

_I scale the wall with the aid of the bins, then rush to the house. I find the phone wires and cut them so the alarm won't go off. Then I crouch at the side door, pick the lock. It seems to take forever - it always does. I'm in the shadows, but have the feeling I'm exposed to the world._

_Finally the door opens with a soft click, and I slide in, pull it shut behind me. The office is just round the corner from here._

_That door is locked too, so I start picking that, feeling even more exposed. It's unlikely anyone will come walking through this corridor at night - very unlikely - but if they do they'll be between me and the outside door..._

_I fumble, and start again - fucking hell Jimmy. It's a simple lock. Breathe. Concentrate. Icy spark in the centre of your brain... expand..._

_There._

_Cool. Calm. Collected. Concentrating._

_The lock opens, I slide into the office, close the door behind me. It's dark, but my eyes have got used to it, and I can see alright. I'm not risking a light._

Behind a locked door, I turn off the light - as the bedroom swamps with darkness, I forget - about being trapped with my parents on this poor excuse for a holiday...

about one more year at fucking Eton and back home for school breaks...

In the darkness, there is only you.

The you I’ve caught glimpses of, the you crawling on me in my dream...

Taking my cock in my hand, I return to the dream.

What would have happened if Mum hadn’t chosen _that moment_ to wake me up?

You were so confident... seductive... _predatory_...

Although I like quiet, unsure Ricky too... _very much_... you seem so _fragile_ sometimes... I want to stand behind you, ready to shield you from the world with my very life.

_Mmm... yess..._

and under cover of darkness, _you_ will become the predator... tearing off my clothes until I’m lying naked underneath you...

I grow harder, and stroke more firmly.

Then tying me up as you did last night, biting me, scratching my flesh...

_God... fuck... yes..._

And then... stripping as I lie powerless before you... then flipping me over and _taking_ me...

My breathing grows raspy...

_Fucking_ me...

Guys _always_ want me to top...

I’m letting out breathy moans, shivering at the thought of you being the aggressor...

Harder and harder... pounding my arse like you want to...

_Please, oh fuck..._

Then reaching around and squeezing my cock in your hand...

_oh... god..._

My body begins to spasm.

_Hngh..._

I shoot across my abdomen, letting out a rough groan.

My hand falls against the sheet, and I breathe raggedly as my body jerks with aftershocks.

God... if Tuesday is even a fraction as good as that... you’ll have me wrapped around your finger by the end of the night.

_There's a key bundle hanging beside the door. It would be very convenient if some of those keys unlocked the filing cabinet... but no, they're smarter than that. These are all keys for doors._

_I search around the room, starting with the desk. It has several drawers, all locked with one lock at the top. There's a stationery holder on top of the desk, but no keys in there._

_Two bookshelves, lined with books, some ornaments, some plants. Drawers at the bottom - the top left is opened a lot more than the other ones. I pull it - a small leather wallet lies on top of some notebooks. Bingo. Several small keys on a ring are inside._

_My heart wants to pound, but I keep it under control. Only mind is allowed now. Heart later._

_I unlock the top drawer of the filing cabinet. Finances, Council, Church, School - not what I want._

_The second drawer. Yes. Names. In alphabetical order. Adams. Alderman._

_I scoot through to the middle. Evans. M must be at the back then._

_Malone. Moore._

_I swallow._

_Mulrooney._

_I check again. Moore, Mulrooney. No one in between._

_I check in the bottom drawer for Regan, Mam's maiden name._

_Nothing there either._

_It's alright Jimmy. There are eighteen more children's homes in Dublin, Jimmy. And god knows how many in Ireland._

_One down - many more to go. Systematic checking, Jimmy. You will find him. You *will*._

_My eyes stinging, I look in the bottom drawer - nothing useful._

_Dejectedly, I unlock the desk drawers - oh. A money box. Now that *is* useful. Not what I wanted, but – it would come in handy -_

_One of the little keys opens the box. A layer with coins, underneath some notes - six pounds, a fiver, five tenners, and *six* twenties -_

_I grasp the notes, stuff them deep into my pocket. I look at the coins - they're not to be sneezed at, but they'll make noise... I grab a fifty-p coin for each pocket and leave it at that, move the layer back into the box, back into the drawer._

_I glance through the other drawers. There's a Report on Children's Homes in the Dublin Area 1987-1988 that I scan through, but there's nothing there I didn't know._

_I close and lock everything behind me, leave it all the way I found it. Let them accuse each other of stealing the petty cash._

_I climb up the wall, use my leather jacket to protect against the shards, drop down on the other side._

_Shove my gloves into my pocket, and start running._

_No matter how fast I run, I can't outrun the pain._

I lie in bed in a dreamy state for a long while, thinking of you and our date tomorrow... and then... reality begins to erode my bliss. And then it disintegrates completely.

After this week, I will have nothing but memories to sustain me. Beautiful memories of your eyes gleaming at me across a dance floor... hot memories of you restraining me and feeling your mouth work its magic... badass memories of taking on five arseholes and winning as if we’d been fighting together for years... laughing and scrambling up to the roof of a garage under the stars...

I will treasure these memories. And then - I’ll be back to staring at the same walls in the prison of my stupid life.

I sigh heavily and sit up to grab a tissue and clean myself off.

Get over it, Moran. Life is shit. You know this.

Meeting a beautiful, dark-eyed boy is a temporary respite... but it does nothing to change my lot in life.

One more year, I repeat to myself.

I don’t want to think about my worry that I might just be trading one prison for another. What else would I do other than university? I don’t give a shit about anything...

I grab my flask, and pour whisky down my throat. I’m getting dangerously low - I should have gone out today to buy more.

Fuck. _Tomorrow_ , I tell myself.

And then - Ricky.

I keep drinking until I start to feel blessed fuzziness in my brain... drowning out the fury beating at my cage.

The last drop trickles out and my eyes open. I glare at the flask, and throw it to the floor. Then I crawl into bed to fall into a restless sleep.

_When I get home, I'm trembling with exhaustion. Everyone's asleep._

_I go into the bathroom, have a shower, cook up._

_Finally the pain subsides..._

_I stuff the money into my pen case, put it under my t-shirt, fall onto my mattress, relishing the numbness._

_Why can't I be always numb... if only I could control my brain chemistry - it can't be that hard. If I *decide* I will produce more dopamine and less noradrenaline, surely my brain should just *listen*?_

_I know I can shut off pain - it's there, but I can just ignore it. Physical pain, that is. I just - shove it in its box, and close it. Not now. I’m in charge._

_Could I devise a similar system for mental pain, so I don't rely on opioids?_

_I hate relying on things..._

_I look at the mind map, at the torn and desolate street where we used to live, graffiti on the walls, burning cars, litter blowing in the freezing wind._

_Could I build a wall around that? A large concrete nuclear bunker?_

_I drift off drawing plans in my head._

When I awake, my heart does a sort of somersault in my chest before I even remember what today is. And then it comes crashing back- my _date_.

I blink up at the ceiling from my cocoon of blankets, and I smile.

And my smile continues as I float downstairs for something to eat. I’m so ravenous and blissed out I forget to check if I can hear Father’s voice from downstairs. Shit - he’s at the table, bitching at Mum about how the world is going to hell, blah blah blah.

Mum smiles at me happily probably because I actually got up before noon and didn’t hide in my bedroom until Father had left the house. She continually nods at my father’s diatribe and makes placating noises.

He’s holding up the newspaper in an accusing manner as if it’s been custom-designed to ruin his breakfast.

“-and members of parliament are in for a nasty surprise if they think that will solve anything! Oh. _Sebastian_. Decided to grace us with your presence, how rare...”

“Morning, Mum... Milord,” I say cheerily as Mum rings the bell for a servant to take my breakfast order.

He scowls. “You should accompany me one of these days. I trust you know you’ll need to learn about conducting business to be a power player in this day and age.”

As if. “Sounds great,” I enthuse, and he looks completely taken aback. He opens his mouth to speak, but just then I give my order of a bacon sandwich and strong coffee.

He shakes his paper at me. “Are you following what’s happening to our world at all, or do you only care about music and destroying yourself with drink?”

“Oh, I’m _extremely_ interested in what’s happening to ‘our’ world,” I say loftily, and pick up one of the papers on the table and read the headlines about the aristocracy and their histrionics. Burn baby burn, I think with satisfaction.

Mollified, he nods. “I’m relieved to hear it. Now - had you got up earlier, you could have joined me for a meeting to finalize a business deal. See to it that you set your alarm for an earlier time. What will you be doing today?”

Buying whisky and meeting a hot guy at midnight, I think dreamily. _Don’t say it Seb, DO NOT..._

“Buying - a gift for Nan’s birthday,” I say with a pleasant smile.

“Hmph. You should let your mother do that for you. She selects excellent gifts,” he sniffs and gets up from the table, tossing the paper away from him like it’s a rotting fish. “I’ll be home for dinner,” he says primly and leaves the room.

“Have a lovely meeting, dear,” Mum says after a short pause. God, she’s just as relieved as I am when he leaves for the day.

She reads her book as she finishes her coffee and we sit in comfortable silence as I devour my breakfast.

When I get up, she looks up with a smile. “See you at dinner, Sebastian darling...”

“Will there be guests again?” I ask, praying that the endless parade of snooty daughters will take a break for the night.

She gives me a knowing look. “Tomorrow. But don’t worry, you’ll see everyone at the ball this weekend...” She returns to her book, and I roll my eyes and cram the rest of my sandwich into my mouth.

_I wake late morning, take a hit to dull the pain._

_But mixed in with the ache is a small glimmer of excitement, of thrill, of happy expectation._

_Sebastian._

_Tonight._

_I will go check the place out when it's getting dark... but I think we're grand. I wonder what you'll say..._

_My stomach tickles when I think of your face, your eyes, looking at me so hungrily... my cock stirs. Tonight, my friend..._

_I'm in a pleasant half-daze, and have another look through the mind map, at the scary place, the source of pain. It's - doable, when I've just had a shot, though not pleasant..._

_But an architect shows up with blueprints, and armoured trucks arrive with builders, and the engineer points out how we can have thick concrete lined with lead so nothing can ever again leak out..._

_I either drifted off or got lost in the mind map, because when I open my eyes again it's three PM. I better get some food; and I want to hit the library before it's closed._

I head out after breakfast to buy booze for the rest of the week - including extra for you. Then I wander around downtown, get bored, and head back home to read and watch another video.

God, they really didn’t think of me at all when they planned this ‘holiday’. Initially, I insisted I would stay home by myself, but Mum asked me to please join them _for her_ \- as if sensing it would be the last time I would ever agree to go anywhere with them. After that, how could I say no?

Because she’s right. When I leave home for Oxford, I imagine I’ll do all I can to stay at school or with a mate during school breaks - maybe heading to London for a day to meet with Mum for lunch. The day I leave home will be like escaping from a tomb, and I’ll have no desire to crawl back in.

I keep heading outside to smoke as the afternoon drifts by. I feel like screaming in frustration at how slowly time is moving. I just want midnight to come already, and I still have dinner to get through.

Thankfully dinner does not include Father, after all. Mum asks me what I think of the girls I’ve met so far, and I want to laugh hysterically. I give her a polite, noncommittal answer, and she smiles slyly. What the hell, Mum? I disappear back into my room after dinner, do some more reading, then shower and get dressed.

Then finally, finally, finally it’s time to leave. Father is still not home, and I do not give a shit where he is. All I care about is my _date_... I haven’t felt this way in two years... There should be a plaque somewhere prominent in Dublin that indicates ‘In this fair city Sebastian Moran came alive again’.

I slip out of the house, and catch a cab, my heart racing.


	5. Fever

_It's twenty to midnight, and all is well._

_The night is cloudy, with the occasional bit of drizzle, which means people stay inside, which suits me fine. I'm sheltered in the doorway of a closed shop, having a smoke. I figured I could offer the fags tonight._

_*He's not going to come.*_

_Why wouldn't he come?_

_*Because you're a nutter and he's come to his senses.*_

_No. He likes me. *He's* the one who suggested meeting again._

_*Yes, just after he came. He's had a day to cool down and think of better things to do. Like anything except hooking up with the psycho junkie.*_

_He doesn't know that._

_*He's not stupid.*_

_He's not a scaredy-cat either. He likes danger._

_*Good for you then. You're a mortal danger to everyone around you.*_

_..._

_I'm not going to hurt him._

_*Suuuure... because you're so in control of your actions, aren't you.*_

_Leave me alone._

_*Anyhow, it's a moot point, because he's not going to come.*_

_It's only ten to. We said midnight._

_*How long are you going to wait for?*_

_I'm fine. It's not cold._

I exit from the cab. My heart is slamming in my chest.

Jesus Christ, Moran... you’d think you’d never hooked up before.

Well, this is _different_ , I argue. It’s not just a hook-up - I’ve never met anyone like you... and we have such limited time...

I pick up my pace and head to the spot where you told me to meet you.

Concerned, I cast my gaze around in the darkness. You didn’t run into any trouble, did you?

Then I spot you coming out of a doorway.

Oh. You’re here.

You’re _here_.

I force myself not to run towards you, and I become conscious of the smile lighting up my face.

Not even playing a little hard to get am I, I think wryly.

Nope. Fuck that.

As much as I would love to swoop down on you and kiss you, I take a more careful approach.

“Ricky,” I greet you, stopping at a short distance. I stretch out my hand and nudge your shoulder. I feel a low electric current shoot up my arm.

I stare at you intently. God... this should be an interesting night...

_"Sebastian," I grin._

_Way to beam at him, Jimmy... but your smile is so infectious - so impossibly wide._

_You are really happy to see me. *Me.*_

_"How's it going? Did you miss me?"_

Your normally still, sombre face cracks into a smile. God... already, and it’s only the start of the night - I’ve made you smile!

And you’re being _playful_. My heart glows.

I chuckle. “I’m supposed to play cool, right? Well then, I certainly was _not_ counting the hours until midnight. And it was _not_ the longest fucking day in recent memory.” I smirk at you. “How’d I do?”

_"You're a terrible liar, Sebastian..." I grin, suddenly all confidence and ease now you are here._

_I start walking down the street. "I have something planned, but do tell me if it's not your thing. I mean, I barely know you. It's about a fifteen-minute walk."_

_Now what? What do you talk about on a date?_

_Small talk, I guess? I consult my pop culture database for what book and tv-show characters do in situations like this._

_"So, where are you from?"_

_I mean, I can hear you're from London, and aristocracy; and it didn't take a genius to find out you're Sebastian Moran and your father is Lord Augustus Moran because he is in the Who's Who and it tells you who his children are (just you) and when they were born (seventeen and a half years ago) and everyone can just go to the library and open one up and find this out, but people prefer to tell you about themselves rather than vice versa._

Fifteen minutes... that’s a long time for us, considering the stolen moments we’ve had before. And I look forward to actually getting to know you a little. But unsurprisingly, I’m on the spot first. Carefully I proceed, tossing aside any information that may make you look at me differently.

“London...” I say. “In a way, it was good to have a change of setting... But ultimately it’s just felt like being trapped with my parents in a different house - with fewer places to escape to and no friends to distract me. Really not my idea of a good time... the _only_ upside of this entire experience has been someone I met...”

You turn your head to stare at me - something flits across your expression, and I look back at you innocently.

“It’s strange to feel grateful that someone tried to steal my wallet, but... the little shit who did it has been the only good thing about this trip. Life’s pretty fucking funny that way...” I say wryly.

_Oh wow. I'm the only good thing about your trip and you're just - saying so, not playing cool or anything._

_So confident. So sexy..._

_This is making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and the tickling in my stomach is getting worse._

_Wow. You're a heady drug, aren't you?_

_I raise an eyebrow. "Brave of you to call me a little shit when you don't know where I'm taking you... could be I have twelve henchmen waiting for us to throw you in a dungeon where I'll keep you prisoner, like you suggested..."_

_Testing the waters here... how do you respond to the suggestion?_

I chuckle. “ _Twelve_ henchmen? You’re ambitious, aren’t you. I would have thought _one or two_ , at this age...”

I pretend to consider what you’ve said, furrowing my brow. “Well, if you deign to let me out of your dungeon, I can tell you I’d be better than any henchman you’ve found so far...” I say playfully, and lean in to meet your ever-intensifying stare. “And that’s a promise...”

_Innards and outards from thighs to nose appear to be malfunctioning. My throat is closing up, heart is pounding, stomach is trying to turn upside down, and cock is twitching. I thought I was immune to this kind of thing as a psychopath, but it must just have been that I've never met a properly sexy lad._

_"I'm sure I'd need at least twelve henchmen to subdue you... or one evil genius..." I let my eyes gleam at you._

As you stare at me, my breath catches in my throat. Parts of me are lighting up that I had only been dimly aware of up to now...

God... this is _so much better_ than I’d even hoped for.

I clear my throat carefully.

“Twelve sounds about right,” I say, letting my eyes gleam right back at you.

I fish out my lighter and smokes from my jacket.

I light up, inhale and look up at the night sky as I breathe out smoke.

“Or the right evil genius...” I purr, offering you a cigarette.

_*Oh.*_

_Things just lit on *fire*._

_I'm this close to grabbing you and throwing you against the wall._

_Keep it cool, Jimmy..._

_Yes - a cigarette. That should help._

_I take one, you light it for me. Our eyes lock, your hand touches mine and I swear I see sparks fly._

_"So... what would your ideal evil genius be like?"_

“My _ideal_ evil genius...” I pretend to ponder this. “Well, there’s so much to consider, isn’t there! He’d be devilishly attractive... obviously. Witty and irreverent as all hell. Mmm... a knack for blood and violence. Diabolical schemes are always a plus. And... well, for him to be _truly_ ideal-“ I lean in and lightly lay an arm around your shoulder to whisper conspiratorially, “- my evil genius would have to have a taste for kink, wouldn’t he?”

I pull my arm back and gaze at you through half-closed eyes. “So if you know any clever, ruthless deviants by this description... would you consider telling them about me? And if you need me to show you what I’m capable of, in order to be my reference... just tell me what I need to do.” I smile at you slyly.

_Oh my god._

_All bodily malfunctions are intensifying. I'm sucking on my cigarette and then struggle to suppress a coughing fit, which would not in any way fit my suave evil-genius image._

_*Devilishly attractive*_

_*Witty and irreverent*_

_*Blood and violence*..._

_... *a taste for kink?!*_

_Ohhhh, I planned the *perfect* date, honey..._

_I had my suspicions, obviously... but not many seventeen-year-olds are so aware of or at ease with their proclivities._

_Hm. How did you *become* so aware?_

_Don't think about that..._

_*Just tell me what I need to do...*_

_The malfunctions appear to be spreading. My knees are turning to jelly now._

_Oh_...

 _someone_ liked the answer to his question...

But not quite sure what to say in response?

You’re the most delectable mix of dark and unsure I’ve ever seen...

God... if you’re this fascinating at this age, what the fuck are you going to be like when you’re older?

Dizzying thought...

Maybe we should make plans to meet in ten years... see how we both turned out.

(If I even survive that long...)

_Don’t think about that._

(Weakling.)

 _Go fuck yourself,_ I snarl at the voice that I know is a mix of my voice and my bloody Father’s.

“What about you? Any thoughts on what makes a good henchman?” I smile, flicking the ash from my cigarette at a sign promoting a charity run by a Catholic organization.

_Oh yes, it's considered proper for a conversation to involve both participants. I was so thrown by your replies that I forgot that I should do some talking too._

_"A good henchman? One henchman, to replace all the other twelve? Hmmm... he'd have to be big and strapping, strong, know his way around a fight. Some experience with weapons and a predilection for violence a plus." Don't think I haven't spotted the knife in your pocket, darling... is that what scared those two thugs on Saturday?_

_"If there's only one henchman, he'll have to be around a lot, so he'd preferably be able to hold an interesting conversation and be easy on the eye._

_And, you know... things may get boring during long nights in the evil lair... so if he were up to some extracurricular activities with his evil genius boss... of course doing *whatever the boss decrees...*" I purr._

As you rattle off your list, I nod pensively and stifle a smirk.

Jesus... we’re both malcontents with poor moral fibre. This date is already off to a smashing start.

And when you purr innuendo at me at the end, I practically have to shake myself out of immediately fantasizing what you might do to me in such a position.

“Whatever the boss decrees,” I purr back at you. _“Well.”_

I take a drag from my cigarette and exhale slowly. “This is an _excellent_ list. Clearly you know what you’re looking for in a henchman. If you have any evil schemes _this week_ and your other henchmen aren’t performing to your liking, do let me know if I can assist...”

You look at me searchingly for a moment. The fake expression slides off my face. We stare at each other as we walk, and then you look away quickly.

 _God_... what was that? Do you have something in mind?? Should I offer to help you? Obviously it depends what it is... doesn’t it??

“You will... won’t you?” I murmur.

_"Certainly... but you know the oldest mistake in the book for an evil genius - allowing a henchman into his organization who is not trustworthy. Many a traitor in the ranks has ended up being the end of a good evil empire. So... I'll have to do some interviewing first... maybe even some interrogating..."_

_Fucking hell. The air is charged between us - practically on fire. I'm surprised the drizzle that has started to fall doesn't evaporate from the heat wafting off us._

_We've reached our destination. Now we'll see if you're just talk... but I know you're not._

_"We're here," I say. You look a bit surprised - posh residential street, not a pub or club in sight._

_I walk up to a detached house with two large sycamores in the garden, unlock the door, nod for you to enter, follow you, close the door behind us._

_"Hospitality tonight is courtesy of the Fitzsimonses. They left on an at least two-week holiday last Friday - very early in the morning, loaded with big suitcases. Research this evening has shown that they're in Australia - lucky them!_

_I figured that while they were away, we might as well avail ourselves of what their house has to offer - most notably, a luxurious boudoir which unfortunately isn't on a par with our usual garage roof, but has the advantage of more privacy and protection from the rain._

_But first, they have an excellent Knappogue Castle that I think we should try. Am I right you are a whiskey man? I also purchased some lagers - they didn't have any, I'm afraid._

_And I got us some gloves," I pick up the box of disposable surgical gloves that I put on the hall cupboard, "assuming you don't fancy being called up by the guards when you're back in London."_

_I look at you. How do you respond to this blatant burglary? You're not turned off, are you?_

_Interrogating_...

My pulse begins to race.

Jesus fucking Christ...

when did _this_ happen, whatever is rising between us? It went from fun and playful to...

What the fuck. And thank you.

When we arrive at a house on a residential street, I’m a bit confused.

Then I follow you in, awe-struck as you reveal your plan for the evening.

Holy fuck.

You’re looking unsure again. Aww. Are you worried I won’t want to do this?

“And here I thought there’d be nothing to do on a Tuesday night...” I mutter, looking around in amazement. “Brilliant.”

There’s a small smile forming on your face.

“Where is this whisky you speak of? We must take advantage of the Fitzsimonses’ hospitality immediately...” I say with a smirk.

_"I took the liberty of preparing the bedroom for us with glasses, as well as the aforementioned whiskey. Of course the lager is in the fridge - would you like one?"_

_You nod. "Sounds perfect."_

_"I also blacked out the windows in said bedroom, so the neighbours won't get curious about any light shining out. Not that they're likely to - the richer the neighbourhood, the less likely that anyone gives a fuck about what anyone's up to. Still - better to not advertise our presence. It would be so sad if we'd be interrupted in medias res by the guard, wouldn't it?"_

_We both don a pair of gloves, and I lead you upstairs to the master bedroom, switch on the bedside lights, casting the room in a pleasant golden glow. There are two fake Louis XV chairs and a table, on which I've put the whiskey, an ashtray, and some glasses. I nod at a chair - "Make yourself comfortable; I'll get our lagers."_

_I quickly head downstairs, open the fridge, get two cans of lager out, pad back upstairs._

_I feel a weird sense of relief to see you are still there, sitting in the chair, looking so incongruous in your jeans and t-shirt in these baroque surroundings. Your leather jacket is hanging over the back, your ankle in its army boot leaning on your knee. You look completely at ease - you're one of those people who looks utterly comfortable anywhere, indubitably a result of breeding. It just never occurs to English aristocracy that they may be out of place; any discord between them and their surroundings surely the result of shortcomings in the latter._

_It's not irritating in you, though... You just look - like you are exactly where you need to be. And you are._

_I nod at your gloves. "You can take those off - I'll give the bedroom surfaces a good clean before I leave. Rubber is not my kink..." I grin, sitting down, opening the lagers._

As you head downstairs, I wander about the room, looking at the decor. This could be any house my parents visit - if the Fitzsimonses weren’t in Australia, perhaps we would have dinner with them next week. I grin - that makes it even sweeter to be here...

I sink into a baroque chair, and wait for you... wondering what you have in store for me. It seems like you may have a plan in mind...

You seem far more confident now that it is underway...

When you arrive, I take a lager from you and crack it open.

“Rubber is not your kink,” I murmur, and lift the can to my lips. “I’m intrigued to learn what is...”

_I pour two measures of the whiskey - I tend to prefer my drinks sweeter, but I like the idea of sipping something really expensive. And, well - it doesn't really look manly to go for a Malibu Sunset, and I'm very aware that I need anything available to keep that edge - you see something in me that you like, but you're bigger, stronger, more rugged and handsome..._

_... where was I?_

_Oh yes. Whiskey._

_"Enjoy," I say as I slide one glass to you._

_"As to my kink... well... you'll have to wait and see, won't you? Maybe if you're *very* good, you'll find out..."_

_I take a sip from my lager, lick my lips._

Are you dangling your kink in front of me like a toy...? To get me to do what you want?

Fuuuuck... do _you_ have me figured out...

Then you lick your lips and my mind goes blank for a moment...

I chuckle and grab the glass of whisky.

“Alright... here I am, waiting and being good, then.”

I lean back in my chair. “Excellent idea, I have to say...” I gesture to the room. “This is far more conducive to...” I shrug, smirking. “Getting to know each other... Plotting evil schemes... What have you...”

I raise my glass with a grin. “To crime!”

_*waiting and being good...*_

_You really are all my Christmases come at once aren't you..._

_There's some residual Catholicness inside me saying that I don't deserve this; I don't deserve anything good ever again, but I suppress it as hard as I can - fuck it. I haven't had any fun in -_

_since Mam died._

_*PAIN*_

_*No.* Away. *Not. Now.*_

_You make a cheerful toast, and I join in. "To crime! May it run smoothly and pay well," I grin._

_Now what? I'd like to ask you more about yourself, but what if you ask me things back? Well - if you do, I can always gag you... I think you'd like that..._

_I hide my grin behind my can of lager._

_"So, are you still at school? Or college? Or?"_

God, you seem so much more confident and relaxed when we’re - what, not out in the open? Alone? Committing break and entry?

All I know is that it’s like a dream come true...

“Oh, I’m in my final year... then it’s off to university next year...”

A strange expression crosses your face, and I shrug. “I guess... Or maybe I’ll do something else.. who knows? Whatever I do, I’ll be leaving home - for good.”

I neck my whisky, and let out a long, slow breath.

“You?”

_Ah yes. Not welcome, but not unexpected._

_"Yeah, school. Junior cycle. Boring, but well." I shrug._

_Back to you, my darling._

_"Sounds you're more keen on leaving the parental bosom than whatever course you're planning on."_

_Junior cycle._ I’m about to ask how old you are and how many years you have left, when you return to me as a topic.

I grimace. “What gave it away? That would be my top priority, yes. Mum’s lovely, really - just kind of... benignly negligent,” I admit, feeling a pang of hurt surface from my heart.

Shit - how long have I been holding onto that?

 _“My Father...”_ I say darkly, then pause to contain myself. “- is Not. A Good. Man. I have my reasons for feeling animosity towards him... not the usual teenage histrionics... or spoiled posh complaints... let’s just say if he died tomorrow, I would paint the town red,” I growl then shake my head, staring at the floor.

“Sorry. Volatile topic for me...” I mutter.

I’m not sure why it matters that you don’t see me as a spoiled posh brat. But it does.

It matters very much...

“So yeah... As long as I get the fuck away from that life and from _him_...that’s all that really matters to me. I just haven’t cared enough to come up with an alternative plan to university. I like history... so I’d probably go that route.”

You’re staring at me like you’re assessing me, going so much deeper than anyone normally cares to go.

God... I feel like an insect drowning in amber when I look into your eyes...

I quickly take a drink of my lager.

“What about you? What do you want to do after you finish school?” I say, steadying my voice and gripping the can.

_Oh shit. Should I have said Junior Cycle? Did you think I was older? Shit, that's not going to turn you off, is it?_

_Wait, do you even know how the Irish school system works?_

_My distraction tactic has worked, however, and you are once more revealing about you._

_You are talking, yes, but talk is always such a minor aspect of what people are saying..._

_Hurt. Feeling - neglected by your mam._

_But that's nothing compared to the hurt you get from your father. *Father*, not Dad. More distance. You hate him and he hurt you - tremendously._

_You acknowledge that that's a common teenager thing, but state this is deeper. And I can see it is. You have lines no seventeen-year-old should have. Deep personal loss. You still have both your parents, never had a sibling, so - abuse? That would fit... if your da abused you as a child, it would explain the hurt, the hatred, the sexual promiscuity... though of course the latter could just be predilection._

_Or - beating on your mam? No, that doesn't match with the way you looked when you spoke about her - you feel that she doesn't - take your side enough, or didn't do enough to help you - the hurt centres on you, not her. Did she know, and not intervene?_

_I feel a red hot rage rise within me. What is that supposed to be?_

_I think of your dad - I've never even seen the guy - but I *really* want to kill him. Am already shooting threads out into my mind map on how I could -_

_will you stop that, Jimmy? You can't go and *kill* an English Lord. You have enough on your plate. Besides, what's it to you?_

_*He hurt Sebastian*_

_Yes well dads hurt kids, don't they? You should know. I don't see your da in the graveyard, either._

_Get back with it. He's going to study history - oh, clever. He likes history, but it's also something his dad would find not useful - too much like liberal arts._

_Back to me. What do I want to do when I finish school... oh, god..._

_Well, if I would have stayed in school and been off to university..._

_"I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking about mathematics or physics - I really like seeing how things work, finding the systematicity underneath everything, abstracting, analysing, predicting... maybe astrophysics. It's so fascinating to see the universe, how *vast* it is, and yet how there's a structure to it all..."_

_Maybe I still can. Maybe when Georgie's finished university, I can do my own. I can have a job on the side - I won't need to study as much as normal people..._

_It's a nice thought. For a fourteen-year-old junkie criminal._

God... you talked only about school. And I went on and on about my fucked-up family... I never talk about this shit with anyone!!

I only ever did with David...

(Why do you keep thinking about him!!)

Fuck... I don’t know what it is about you that makes me open up.

My heart begins to race.

Your fucking _eyes_... it’s like I’m getting a hit of truth serum when they look at me like that...

I take a moment to calm myself as you answer, trying to focus on what you say.

Mathematics... physics... astrophysics??

God, and just hearing the words you choose and how you use them...

You joked about being an evil genius, but... I’m beginning to suspect you’re more than just clever...

I shake my head. “Well, that puts my ‘I like history’ answer to shame,” I say with a wry grin, and down the rest of my lager.

_Those eyes boring into mine... so deep, so changeable depending on the light, and your mood... I’d love to make a chart of what colour occurs when..._

_I’m not that bothered about history or mathematics any more. We can talk more in the afterglow._

_I get up, walk around to you, and plonk myself onto your lap, grab your t-shirt, and pull you towards me in a kiss._

You seem to consider this for a moment - next topic of conversation or-?

And then a determined look comes over you.

And Then.

You’re up and moving.

You’re in _my lap_.

You’re pulling me into a kiss.

_Possessively._

And I fucking love it.

You in my lap, hands gripping my shirt, your lips branding mine...

God, the _heat_ that rises up between us almost immediately...

My fingers dig into your hips. I make a lustful sound deep in my throat, as your tongue surges into my mouth.

_Oh yes, that is welcome..._

_Keep paying close attention Jimmy; don't ruin it. You have one chance._

_He's giving all the right signals, keep monitoring them._

_"So you were curious about my kink?" I say hoarsely towards your ear._

I hear the words, and it takes me a moment for them to sink in.

My eyelids flutter open.

“God... yes...” I mutter. “Tell me...”

_"Tell you? Wouldn't that be *boring*? Have a nice chat about sexual predilections, over whiskey and a cigarette... when I could just *show* you? Make you... *feel it?*"_

_I bite your ear._

_All signals definitely green so far._

My chuckle turns into a groan when your teeth sink into my ear.

“Fuck, yes... I was an idiot to think otherwise... a blind fool...” I whisper. “Show me...”

_Ohhh, Se*bas*tian..._

_Right, next step..._

_I lean back. You're looking at me almost bereft, hungry - and eager to please…_

_"Why don't *you* show *me* instead..." I purr. "I think you're wearing way too many clothes - get rid of them."_

I raise an eyebrow and smile. Oh?

Moving right along, then...

I grasp your hips and move to a standing position, holding you up effortlessly. I think that wins points in my favour...

I gaze up at you for a moment before putting you down gently.

“As Sir wishes...” I murmur, and reach behind my shoulder to pull off my t-shirt over my head. I toss it on the floor, revelling in the feeling of your eyes on me... all that relentless working out has never felt so worth it...

_So strong..._

_*No swooning, Jimmy.*_

_..._

_*Oh alright, just a little...*_

_I'm lowered to the ground, your eyes looking into mine, pupils huge, and then -_

_*And then.*_

_*As Sir wishes...*_

_My cock perks, my pelvis vibrates, and my knees go wobbly._

_Oh god you're definitely into this..._

_I swallow as I watch you pull your shirt off, unable to tear my eyes away, even if I wanted to. *Fuck* you're hot - muscular, but not bulky, lean and taut and tanned and fucking *perfect*._

_*No drooling. Close your mouth.*_

Carefully I tune into your responses. I do with any partner as a rule - what’s the point if they’re not brought to the throes of ecstasy, really?

But you especially... I still get that feeling of - ‘oh shit, are you going to take off yet??’

And I want to do whatever it takes to ensure that _does not happen_...

Admiring lustfully... good...

A shift in breathing... very good...

Oh, movement down below... _excellent_...

I unbutton my jeans and unzip so slowly... peeling them over my hips like I’m moving through molasses...

_Ohhhh, you *tease*..._

_My tongue moves over my lips as I watch you appreciatively._

_There's definite interest visible inside the pants department as the tight jeans are lowered. I take my lager, take a sip as I keep watching, recording the show carefully for later enjoyment._

I grab the bottle of whisky and saunter over to the fancy chair in the corner near the bed...

Throw myself onto it...

remove my boots and socks, and kick them aside...

(I don’t trust myself to do this standing and trying to be sexy... falling on my face is not the impression I wish to make)...

Then I pull the jeans from my body, toss them over my shoulder, and have a belt of whisky.

I look at you as I lower the bottle and smile...

_Hnghn._

_God, you love this, don't you? You're a born performer... Taking the whiskey with the exact purpose to take a swig from it when you're near-naked, knowing how *hot* you'll look, your muscular form, long legs with golden little hairs shining, black briefs containing that delicious cock who is definitely eager to escape, your *arms*... so perfect, athletic rather than burly, same as your torso... if I could have designed you myself, I wouldn't have changed a thing._

_You are well aware of the effect you're having; smiling up at me confidently, dangling the bottle of whiskey in your hand, inviting me to do my worst..._

_Regain the initiative, Moriarty..._

_I walk over to you, set myself down on your lap again, moving my hands across your chest. There are three parallel lines from your lower ribs towards your navel. I trace them down with my fingers, then up with the backs of my nails._

_"Ran into a wild beast?" I ask in a low voice._

God, this is working _so well_...

you are so hungry for my body, I can see it in your eyes, how you lick your lips...

and just as I’m about to do my big reveal, you’re walking towards me.

And now I have a lapful of adorable thief pawing at me...

fuck... hold back, Moran-

Remember to let him take the lead-

I’m trying to keep my breath steady as you trail your fingers over my chest and abdomen...

God, a simple touch has never done this to me...

You ask a question, and I look down in a daze.

“Oh - _that_ ,” I murmur. “There may have been a run-in or two - with a beautiful, feral creature...”

_"You have to be careful..." I say, stroking my nails up from your elbow to your shoulder, down across your chest. "These streets are full of dangerous wildlife... they look sweet, and lure you into their dens, and then..."_

_I press my nails in, pull them down the scratches from Saturday, opening them again. You gasp, your head moves slightly back and your arms twitch, but you make no move to stop me._

_"... they make you bleed..." I whisper._

Oh... god...

I look down at the bloody scratches you’ve scored into my flesh.

“I don’t give a fuck about _careful_...” I say, my voice rough.

Then I look back at you, and let my gaze soften. A little.

Something has unleashed between us, and it can’t be put back in the cage now.

“Consider me lured...” I say in a low growl. “What now, wild thing?”

_Oh *well done* Moriarty. So much for taking *gentle* steps..._

_But fortunately you seem to be well into this. Your growl sends a shiver down my spine and tingles into my groin._

_*What now, wild thing.*_

_A challenge. An invitation._

_I'm up._

_"Get up..." I whisper, and get off your lap._

_You stand up, looking at me._

_"Don't move..." I say, and walk past you towards the wardrobe._

_I look around. You are standing still, not turning to see what I'm doing, not even moving your head._

_*Perfect* Sebastian..._

_Mr Fitzsimons has an excellent selection of quality leather belts. I take one, walk back towards you. I touch your shoulders, stroke my hands down, gently moving your arms behind your back, until your wrists cross. I look down at it - can't believe how incredibly *hot* that looks, hands relaxed, wrists obediently touching, moved into this position by *my* will..._

_I start wrapping the belt around them, crossing, winding, finally tying, with enough slack to not restrict your circulation, but tight enough that it won't be easy for you to escape. I know it's *possible* - you're strong and dexterous - but you also *really* don't want to..._

_I don't even need to see your face - the set of your shoulders, your shallow breaths, the straining in your briefs, tell me all I need to know..._

Mnm. Challenge accepted... you get off my lap, and I stand.

I’m not sure exactly what you’re doing, but I don’t think you’re arranging biscuits on a tea tray...

Maybe biscuits later, I think wryly. I picture us drinking tea naked in the Fitzsimonses’ kitchen, and have to stifle a laugh.

Jesus, Moran - shut the fuck up.

Very Important Things are happening...

And then... I understand the nature of the Very Important Thing because there’s a band of leather being fastened around my wrists.

Oh god, oh fuck...

The beautiful boy is into bondage and isn’t looking to me to be the aggressor...

what did I do to deserve this?

I’m getting hard as the leather creaks and tightens against my wrists.

_I walk around you, leisurely, drinking in the sight of the most beautiful boy I've ever seen almost naked and very erect *tied up* for *me*..._

_Your eyes are large, your mouth open, your breath shallow. You're looking at me like you're starving..._

_Fuck, *so* much I want to do with you... and it looks like you want it done to you... very much._

_How much time do we have?_

_I need to know, in order to plan..._

_"Look at this..." I say, licking my lips, looking you up and down. "It appears that the evil genius has managed to ensnare you... without his twelve henchmen."_

_I walk towards you, stroke your skin, so smooth, the muscles underneath so defined..._

_"Now what could an evil genius do with such a remarkably handsome prisoner?" I muse. "It depends... when does the prisoner need to be redelivered to his family? How much time do I have to enjoy... my prey?" I whisper against your ear._

You’re circling me, and I feel your eyes on my naked body, and it’s so distinctly predatory, that a shiver runs over my skin and it nearly takes my breath away...

I can tell you’re in no hurry by the lazy smile, and then you’re _touching me_ which makes it even more difficult to breathe, and now you’re speaking, _pay attention to the words, Seb_ -

_Prey_...

God...

“All night...” I breathe. “I don’t care what they say about it... I’m in your clutches now...”

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

_You are the manifestation of every dream I've ever had._

_I've always fantasized about tying up and hurting pretty boys... as long as I can remember, even before I was aware those feelings were sexual._

_And here is the most gorgeous boy, almost a man, I've ever seen, and he *wants* this..._

_Well, the tying up at least... let's have a small exploration before we put our *claws* into him again, shall we, Jimmy?_

_"I warned you to be careful..." I murmur. "I told you there are dangerous predators about in this city... and here you are, a helpless prisoner..."_

_You like that. You're rock hard, breathing fast._

_"What could an evil genius do with pretty pretty prey such as you, I wonder..."_

_I move my hand over your chest, pinch a nipple. You breathe in, but don't move away, don't say anything._

_I lick the other nipple, nip it slightly, not too hard, but enough to hurt._

_"He might bite you... you are good enough to eat..." I lick up to your neck, gently bite the bruise from Saturday._

_God I wish I could mark you all over..._

_"He might keep you here all night, use you over and over for his pleasure..."_

_No adverse response so far, cock still keen to be released from its cloth prison._

_I stroke your bottom, so gorgeous, muscular, tight... flick my finger against it. "He might punish you if you don't live up to his expectations... or just because he enjoys whipping you..."_

_Another intake of breath, a quiver in the tented pants - oh god are you into that!?_

_I cup your balls through the cloth. A definite gasp and shiver._

_"He might manhandle you... throw you over the bed and fuck that hot arse..."_

_I stroke your cock through the cloth, then move my hand up to your neck as I lean close to you._

_"What do you say to that then... Sebastian?"_

I listen to your purred words, feeling myself fall into a sort of trance.

 _helpless prisoner_...

With every word you utter, I _am_ becoming your prisoner... by choice.

_pretty pretty prey_

God, I want to beg for you to do something, _anything_ , but I struggle to retain any semblance of control.

Come the fuck on, Moran... all the hook-ups you’ve had. You can handle this...

I inhale when you touch my nipple. Mnm...

Then you lick the other one, and then my neck...

_good enough to eat_

Fuuuuck...

 _use you over and over_...

God, please... yess...

When you touch my arse, I shiver.

_punish you... whipping you..._

Your hands cup me, and I gasp and bite back a moan.

 _fuck that hot arse_...

Oh god...

You’re stroking me and it’s so delicious, I’m in danger of getting overly excited...

I feel myself starting to perspire.

Oh god... must form words...

I take a shaky breath. “I say... f-fuck, yes...”

_*Yes*..._

_*You said yes*..._

_*Yes* to all the depraved things I want to do with you - you want them too - I'm not mad - it's a normal kink - well - it's a kink, not an aspect of my madness -_

_I mean I knew that, but..._

_*oh GOD*..._

_My cock is rock hard, dying to get closer acquainted with you, and from the look of it, so is yours._

_I flick my finger against it, making you whimper ever so slightly, and gasp._

_"Yes, *Sir*..." I purr._

_"Yes - yes Sir... fuck, yes Sir..." you moan._

_Oh god I can't believe this. But it is real - and if it isn't, it's a damn great dream and I'm going to make sure I enjoy the fuck out of it._

_I pull at the elastic of your briefs, liberating your eager cock, pulling them over your hips and letting them fall to the floor._

_Then I open my zip and shove my jeans and pants down a bit, my own cock jumping at the chance to meet yours. I move towards you, rub myself against you. You shiver and moan, and god I know how you feel..._

_I look at your cock, already glistening with pre-cum, so hard, your balls tight - I think you might come if I so much as look at it in the right way._

_Thank god we have all night. There is *so much* I want to do with you, Sebastian... but right now, I'm ready to burst and you look like you are as well. It's a risk - you might change your mind when you've come and decide you need to go home after all - but I think it very unlikely. You're a recalcitrant rebel if ever I've seen one._

_I take your cock in my hand, possessively. You groan, arch your head back._

_"What's that, Sebastian?" I murmur. You moan something incomprehensible. I start moving my hand, and you tremble._

_You are so close... a few good moves of my hand..._

_"Sebastian, my *darling*..." I say, moving my hand expertly, "you are not about to *come*, are you? Because I would be so disappointed... might even have to punish you..."_

God, it feels so good, but if you keep flicking my cock like that... I don’t fucking know what’s going to happen, but it feels like there’s something waiting on the other side of this experience, something dark and beckoning...

and I fucking _crave it..._

And by the looks of it, so do you...

your eyes are growing darker if that’s even possible, god they look like they’re practically all pupil... like you’re some kind of dark creature rising from an abyss...

In a daze I repeat your chosen honorific back to you, because you’ve fucking earned it to make _me_ feel this way...

I really don’t know what’s happening, but I know I _need_ it, need it like a drug, a grasping hunger that’s taken over me...

with a yank, I’m free from my pants and you’re rubbing your cock against me, and fuck fuck yes, it feels so good, so right...

When your hand grasps my cock, I have to focus so much on not coming, that I lose track of where I am, how long I’ve been here, everything... my entire life is about you in this room, holding my cock like your own personal toy... and then you start to _rub_ it and ohhhh god... You’re speaking words and it’s so hard to listen, just keep touching me, please... faster, _please_...

“Oh god...” I moan urgently. “If you don’t want me to- you have to stop-“

_"Are you telling me what to do, Sebastian?" I croon. "You wouldn't, would you?"_

_I move my hand - so close now, I can feel your balls contracting -_

_come for me, my darling –_

“What?” I ask, confused. “N-no, I just -“ I let out a strangled moan, and try to resist the longing to let go and come deliciously hard in your hand...

“I’m going to- Fuck! Ricky, I’m- so- close-“

A loud groan escapes my lips. My thighs begin to tremble.

I half-open my eyes, see a feral smile on your face, and that’s all it takes-

Suddenly, violently, my orgasm rips through my body - so urgently, it throws my head back. I hear gasping and a sound like an animal in torment through a disorienting haze as I struggle to hold myself up.

I feel my body shivering so hard, like it’s about to come apart...

and I float away to a beautiful peaceful place, listening to myself panting...

Slowly, bit by bit, I feel myself reassembling, and blink at you in surprise. Somehow I managed to remain standing... but my body is still jerking and my legs feel so rubbery, I’m not sure how long that will last.

“God... that was...so _insanely good..._ ” I sigh, shivering and looking at you with dazed pleasure.

_Yes... hot seed shoots out into my hand, as my beautiful prisoner trembles and makes the most *magnificent* sounds._

_Fast gulps of air, shudders, as I'm holding you in my hand... Finally you come back to reality, looking at me with unfocused eyes, as if not quite sure if all this is real, still shivering._

_I delicately step aside, take a few tissues from a box on the nightstand, clean off my hand, looking you in the eyes. You are standing as still as you can, though the occasional aftershudder ripples through you, and your knees look distinctly weak. But, most essentially, you look happy and still entranced. The orgasm didn't snap you out of it._

_I stroke your jaw, your neck, your shoulder._

_"You came *before* me, Sebastian... such poor manners..."_

_I nod down. "Struggling to remain standing? Don't worry... you look much better on your knees, anyway..."_

_I press lightly on your shoulder and down you go, oh yes, a bound Sebastian on his knees, looking up at me - *fuck* - then looking at my cock, now conveniently at mouth height._

_"Time to make it up to me, don't you think?" I take hold of your hair, guide my cock to your mouth, and you eagerly take it in, licking, rubbing your lips around it, and it feels *so good* - oh fuck I'm so close -_

_I let you play around for a bit, holding my hand on your head more as a gesture than to direct you; you know what you are doing - oh *so well* -_

_but I'm so close, and I look down at you, this beautiful naked man on his knees sucking my cock with his hands tied behind his back and that is just *too much* - I *never* -_

_and I firm my grasp and push you onto my cock, driving it into you, and you make some sounds but they're not distressed so I keep going and I couldn't stop now whatever happened this is too good this is too good this is too -_

_With a sound unlike any I knew I could make I *thrust* inside you and all the pleasure anyone could ever feel contracts into my poor balls, and they *explode* and pleasure surges along the length of my cock and I *jerk* and thrust and shiver and grasp and *fuck* - I've never come like this - I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to breathe again –_

I’m slowly coming back to myself as you’re cleaning up, but then you’re staring at me, stroking me so _possessively_ , and like that, I’m back in a daze.

God, the _effect_ you have on me...

I’m trying to follow what you’re getting at - wha-? you _made_ me come...- but then everything snaps into place as you push my shoulder with the lightest touch, and my body just knows what to do, _of course_ it does... what else would I do when you’ve made your wishes known, you fascinating little genius?

I open my mouth obediently, and in your cock goes like it was _made_ for me...

god... I could do this for hours, I think dreamily.

I’m very aware that I’m tied up and at your mercy... fuck... no one has ever done _this_ to me before, not in a way that felt... real? Like you really could do anything...

and what you do is start to fuck my mouth rather intensely...

A thrill moves through me, and I let out a pleased groan.

And then... the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard explode from you and you’re coming hard in my mouth...

 _I_ did that, I think, dizzy with pleasure.

_That was - that -_

_wow._

_When I regain my sight - when I open my eyes - I find myself leaning on your shoulder, panting. You obediently swallowed everything I gave you, and are still softly kissing me - oh *god* -_

_I pull gently back, and I swear you look *disappointed* -_

_That's it. I'm going to have to find a basement to lock you up in. You can never be allowed to escape._

_But for now, I can be nice... You've been so good..._

_I redistribute my weight to my own legs, stroke your hair. You look up at me - so sweetly -_

_I squat down, stroke your cheek._

_"Well done, Sebastian... you are *very* talented..."_

_I kiss your mouth, briefly our lips rest together, and it feels important in some way, soft and gentle and good._

_I move behind you, unbuckle the belt, unwind it from across your wrists._

_"We have all night... but for now, you've earned a break. A drink, a moment to catch your breath..."_

_I feel very solicitous towards you. Odd. I didn't think I would - I normally never do, with anyone. I could see feeling like this *before* an orgasm, but just after? What am I, grateful?_

_Whatever. You are still a bit spaced out and I need to take good care of you._

_I help you up, place two pillows against the headboard, seat you against them, rub your wrists. The weals are not too bad. *My weals*. Yes, Jimmy, *your* weals. Well done._

_"I'll get you another lager," I smile, kiss your forehead._

_Fuck's sake Jimmy, he's not a puppy..._

I can tell I’ve pleased you... I always feel satisfied when I’ve pleased a sex partner but I feel positively blissed out by it now. Weird...

You kiss me, and then release my wrists. I think you implied this is only a temporary state of freedom. Jesus... I may never leave.

Well. Until the Fitzsimonses’ arrival...

You’re fussing over me, which doesn’t do anything to dissipate my blissed-out state but what the hell. I’ve been miserable long enough.

Did you just kiss my forehead??

I sag against the headboard and I hear my head bump against the expensive hardwood. I don’t feel a thing... you look at me and I grin at you like an idiot.

_"Careful with my prisoner," I chide, then put myself back into my pants and jeans, rush downstairs to get you another lager. I still have some, but I get myself a new one anyway, head back upstairs, prop up a pillow, lean against the headboard next to you. You're completely naked, and I'm still fully clothed - down to my shoes. Somehow that heightens the feeling of power._

_I open both our lagers, hand you yours, raise my can._

_"Cheers. To a good start of an interesting night..."_

I’m still feeling blissful as you leave to get me a drink.

 _My prisoner_ , I think, thrilling at the thought. I close my eyes. What else do you have planned for me??

 _Are you quite mad, Sebastian? He could be chemically imbalanced,_ I can practically hear Mum’s alarmed voice in my mind.

Most likely, I agree cheerfully with my internalized Mother.

 _And? You think it’s wise to engage in such risky behaviour?? You could end up dead in a ditch!_ Mum huffs.

But what a way to go, I sigh, stretching languorously.

And _of course_ I thought of that... but I don’t think you would... and anyway, I meant what I said. Better dead at your hands now than potentially at my own, months from now... or maybe after years of misery. At least tonight I’d die happy...

As I hear steps walking towards the bedroom, my eyes slowly open.

Speaking of happy...

you’ve returned! And you brought me lager!

I give you a lopsided grin as you make a toast that sounds very... promising...

“Hear, hear,” I murmur. “Cheers.”

_We both take a sip of our lager, leaning against the headboard, our shoulders touching. I move my right hand onto your thigh, softly stroke._

_I've never sat like this with anyone._

_What do I do now? More conversation?_

_I consult my pop culture database. Cigarettes! Of course!_

_I reach into my shirt pocket for the packet and the lighter, light one, hold it out to you, blowing out the smoke._

I take the cigarette from you and thank you.

I don’t always stick around - after. Sometimes I do - if I’m on friendly terms with someone, and it’s not going to be read wrong... like something romantic.

Sticking around could always lead to round two, after all... once the first time is out of the way, some people are more comfortable with trying different things.

Like you - it took a couple of encounters, before you showed me - oh god, who you _really_ are. I need a lot more of that... but for now, we both need some time to recover.

I’m perfectly capable of chatting about anything and everything if I need to - but I don’t think that’s your thing, and I’m mindful of not just filling the air between us with mindless prattle. You’re not like most people, that’s for sure...

Besides, it’s unusual to find someone I can sit in comfortable silence with...

But a little talking isn’t a bad thing... especially if it gives me a sense of how much I can see you this week...

“So what are you doing on your summer break? Do you have a job?”

_Sure, I do a bit of prostitution, some light pickpocketing, and the occasional breaking and entering..._

_Well, you're familiar with the last two; not planning on telling you about the first one._

_"Not really - well, you met me doing my summer job on Saturday, but you didn't approve," I grin._

_"Not many jobs going otherwise. You?"_

I huff out a laugh. “I didn’t approve of being your _mark_. I’m not an upstanding citizen, believe me... No job for me, either...” I’m trying to steer the conversation away from divulging too much about my background, and it’s so pointless. I’m sure you’ve already guessed about my posh upbringing... but I hardly want to divulge I’m the son of a fucking Lord, do I - even if I despise him. God knows what kind of background you come from if you’re stealing for pocket money...

“Well, if you have any suggestions for how a reprobate might entertain himself this week, it would be appreciated... I do have a few evening commitments unfortunately...” I grimace, and take a drag off my cigarette. “But I can fake a stomach bug and leave early... or a ruptured spleen... misplaced soul... whatever.”

_I chuckle. "There's plenty of churches here can help you with your misplaced soul..."_

_It stings to hear that you have evening commitments. Fuck's sake - what did you expect, Jimmy - a blank diary, waiting on your pleasure?_

_"I don't know how a reprobate might entertain himself, I'm afraid... and besides, I'm more interested in how a reprobate can entertain *me*..." I grin, raising an eyebrow at you._

_Right note?_

Another flash of darkness in your eyes - I stare at you, mesmerized.

But then it’s gone, replaced by a more playful glimmer.

“Oh? I’m sure a reprobate would enjoy keeping you amused and entertained...”

I hesitate for a moment. “The evening commitments - are with my parents, by the way...” I say carefully and put the cigarette to my lips.

Your face remains blank. Did I assume too much about your response?

I nudge you with my shoulder. “If you give a shit,” I say with a wink, and blow smoke towards the ceiling.

_Oh -_

_Well that's good to know -_

_Not that I care -_

_Oh._

_Don't call me out like that, Sebastian._

_I mean - of course I don't care. Who you spend your evenings with. Or even if you don't have time to see me again._

_Or fake a stomach bug to see me again..._

_"Family commitments? Or friends of the family? Parents trying to throw you at daughters of marriageable age?"_

_I see that wince. They do, do they? Well, it's to be expected. You're the only son of Lord Moran; you'll need to keep the line going. Seventeen is a great age to start making strategic matches - with any luck you'll get one of them pregnant and you'll be married before you develop too much of a mind of your own._

_Except I think it's a bit too late for that..._

“I know it probably sounds mad... and bloody archaic... And _it fucking is,”_ I growl. “But when I leave home next year... I’ll be free of all that. Fucking finally. I think on some level, Mum knows-“ I trail off, the guilt seizing me for a moment. “And this whole fucking holiday is like… a last-ditch effort for them to rope me back in. Make connections with people... especially people who don’t know what I’m like...” I smile ruefully. “I may have burned a few bridges back home... brought shame and dishonour to the family name, that kind of thing...” I roll my eyes. I lean back against the headboard, and slowly exhale smoke.

“ _I_ thought it was funny...” I say, and give you wry smile.

_I can see that... you're a fucking powder keg, just waiting for the right spark to explode._

_Though the reason you are like that is probably partially because of the Bad Thing - you just don't care any more, do you._

_It's almost romantic... two guys who are so tired of life..._

_at least I have Georgie to live for._

_"I think I would have liked to see you burn those bridges... I'm sure you're *magnificent* when you're angry."_

You’re back to assessing me - blatantly. Anyone else would have been snarled at by now. But _you_ \- you can assess me all you like, baby...

And then - you give me your conclusion. And you render me speechless...

You don’t think my volatile anger makes me disturbed, or weird, or unsettling... like everybody else.

You think I’m - _magnificent_...

I reach for you and kiss you hungrily.

_Oh - hello._

_That was the right thing to say then? You like people thinking you're magnificent when you're angry?_

_Well, I'm not complaining - you're a great kisser. Not that I have anything to compare it to, but it feels wonderful. I put my hand behind your head, pull you close, drink in your hungry exploration of my mouth, explore yours in return - kissing always seemed like such a pointless and frankly rather ridiculous activity to me, but it's very enjoyable, with the right person - preferably hot, naked, and tasting of beer and smoke..._

Oh shit, I was supposed to let you take the lead...

well done, Sebastian...

but you seem game - you’re kissing me back, your hand on the back of my head, your fingers nestled in my hair...

How am I ever going to kiss anyone else again? I think, panicking a little.

Oh god, please stop thinking, Moran...

Kiss the beautiful boy who thinks you’re magnificent when you’re angry, and ties you up and lets you suck his cock, and finds a house to break into for the most epic first date ever...

which strikes me as very funny, suddenly. I chuckle against your lips.

You break off the kiss and look at me questioningly.

“You really know how to plan an amazing first date...” I say admiringly. “Kinda never wanna leave...”


	6. Young Lust

_Ohhh..._

_"Sounds like a plan. Let's move in. Kill the Fitzsimonses when they come back, live off their money until it runs out, then run wild in a life of crime..." I grin._

_Oh. Wait. Normal people don't talk about killing people._

_Maybe as a joke? Do you laugh?_

I snigger. “Problem is, someone is bound to suspect foul play before the money runs out... and then there’s police to deal with and outrun... really gets in the way of having a good time... or a second date...” I wink at you, and drink more of my lager.

_Oh good. You think it's funny._

_*Second date...*_

_Let's bring the first date to a good end first, Jimmy. Don't do anything to scare him away *too* much... though I have the feeling that it would take quite a lot._

_You put out your cigarette - oh, I completely forgot to have one._

_Later._

_Now what?_

_I rewind our conversation. Ah. You said you find the first date amazing. I can respond to that._

_"I'm glad you like the first date. I know it's not traditional, as first dates go, but I don't really like people in general, so preferred to have as few as possible around."_

“People suck,” I say cheerfully. “And if I never do anything traditional again, it will be too soon...“

I’m trying to not get giddy that we’re talking about our first date, and a second date like it’s inevitable...

Be cool Moran, I tell myself firmly.

“But then, that’s probably pretty clear by now,” I smirk, nodding down to my naked body and looking at your fully clothed one. I put my arms behind my head, and grin cheekily.

_"What, people don't usually undress people on first dates? Oh dear, how uncouth of me. Would you like an item of clothing?"_

“ _An_ item of clothing? As in, one?” I chuckle. “Your call, then. But I’m comfy however. And... I’m hardly an expert on first dates, or anything that comes after...”

_“I’ll leave you as you are then... it would be an act of bad taste to cover up such beauty.”_

_Is that alright? Can you call a boy beautiful?_

_You seem pleased. Good._

_“You not an expert on first dates? With your looks? I’m sure people throw themselves at you all the time.”_

“They do,” I say, shrugging. How to explain the mixed blessing it is without seeming arrogant or spoiled...?

“And... sure, it’s fun. In the moment. But-“ my brow furrows. “I don’t go on dates with any of them. I don’t want to. They see - my family’s name, or they see a bad boy - and they want a piece of that. They don’t see _me_ , and they don’t fucking want to. Because if they do get a glimpse of what’s underneath-“ I grimace and stare up at the ceiling.

“Too angry. Too violent. Too _fucked up_ ,” I say in a low growl, and swipe up my bottle of lager and pour the rest down my throat.

“ _Fine_. And they’re simple and convenient... if that’s any better...” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

 _Oh good_ , Seb... get drunk and bitter, I think in horror. That will make him want to come back for more...

My heart sinks. Jesus... maybe I really _am_ too much...

I rub my face. “I’m sorry. I don’t - usually talk like this...” I say helplessly. “Terrible first date etiquette, I’m sure! Quick, what’s your favourite film?”

_I look at you as you speak. You acknowledge people throwing themselves at you... but you don't go on dates. There is something there, related to the pain._

_*Too angry. Too violent. Too fucked up.*_

_Oh my *Sebastian*..._

_*My* Sebastian now, Jimmy?_

_Shut up. Mine for now._

_Tomorrow is far away._

_Before I can stop myself, I'm on top of your legs, looking into your eyes._

_"*I* see you..." I stroke your temple, move a finger across the scar you have there - a glass, probably a bar fight. "I can see the pain, the rage, the violence... and that's what fascinated me - not your good looks. Yes, they're nice - you're *fucking* hot, and I won't deny that I love that. But - there is much more to you, Sebastian... and I long to explore that..."_

_Shit. Way to go, Moriarty. Go all intense on the poor boy. Why didn't you just tell him what your favourite film is?_

_What *is* my favourite film, anyway?_

_I look at you, trying to read how you'll respond to this._

You’re quiet for a moment, and I doubt you’re thinking of your favourite film.

 _Idiot_ , I think to myself. Oh you fucker... you just _had_ to go there...

What if he doesn’t want to hang out anymore??

Everyone goes away in the end, I think to myself, feeling emptiness opening up in me like a growing chasm...

Then there’s movement, and you’re sitting on me -

And oh -

Oh _god_...

I shiver at the touch of your finger, at your words...

 _Explore that?_ I think in a daze. You want... more of me?

“I like The Godfather...” I whisper, barely able to breathe. I feel a tremor in my muscles. I think even if there was an emergency, I wouldn’t be able to move from this spot...

And isn’t this an emergency? I can’t do this, I _can’t do this..._

And yet... I’m still here. Staring at you longingly, and terrified of wanting anything from you.

But I know I want to give you whatever you want...

“Explore it...” I breathe. “Yes...”

_*I like the Godfather!?* What the hell?_

_You're looking at me like I'm a spectre, your muscles are trembling -_

_you're not trying to escape the conversation; you're overwhelmed._

_I feel something - warm, liquid, filling my chest -_

_a sense of protectiveness, of wanting to hold you close, let nothing hurt you -_

_what the fuck is that? We're not getting all *altruistic*, are we, Moriarty?_

_"I like angry, violent, and fucked up... I must admit I can be a bit angry, violent, and fucked up myself. It tends to scare people away... but they're the sheep. The people who don't run, the people who meet you with open eyes, who see your anger and violence and drink it in, join you... those are the wolves; and they are few and far between, but they are the rare people who are remotely *interesting*..."_

God... did you just drop out of the sky like a gift for me to unwrap?

Only it’s _me_ that’s been unwrapped - my clothing, my defences- and I’m sitting underneath you naked and _seen_... seen by someone so like me in certain ways... and in other ways capable of reducing me to trembling like a leaf.

Get your shit together, Moran...

I take a shaky breath and exhale slowly. “Yes, it does scare people away...” I say in a steady voice, holding your stare. “But I won’t run. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Wolf...”

_"No... because you too are a Wolf._

_When we had that fight... you move so beautifully, like you're dancing... but I also saw that gleam in your eye. You love fighting... it makes you feel alive."_

“Fuck yes... it’s the only thing that does...” I mutter darkly, then look up at you in amazement. “No... not the only thing...” I murmur.

I feel myself growing slightly flushed. God, don’t _blush_ , Seb... nooooo!!

I look away self-consciously.

“ _Fucking hell_... I’m really _not_ usually like this,” I laugh, and cover my eyes.

_That makes me glow, and I practically preen myself. That's right Jimmy. You're doing this. You're making him show you the hidden side of Sebastian Moran... and it's *gorgeous*._

_"I'm honoured," I say, honestly. "I mean - we could have just come here and had great sex. And we do... but I like to know more about you, Sebastian. I find you interesting. I've never met someone quite like you..."_

_Wait, what does that mean? What did I say? Why did I say that?!_

_You can't just - that sounds like –_

I’m not sure what’s happening, exactly... but I feel like I’ve been given a glimpse of something extremely rare... and it’s a treasure that I’ll take with me from this temporary refuge, this stolen sanctuary, and carefully hide it under my armour - to remember in the darkest of times.

“Trust me, I’ve never met anyone like you either,” I say, eyeing you. “Well, I’m pretty shit at sharing things about myself, as a rule... but I can’t seem to shut up around you...” I say wryly.

_"Maybe I should branch out in therapy for troubled teens..." I smirk. "Quite unconventional methods, but the clients seem happy thus far..."_

_I rub my pelvis against yours._

I start to laugh, but when your pelvis rubs against mine, it becomes a muffled groan. “Jesus... sign me up,” I say, my eyes half closed. “I need so - much - _therapy_...”

_"Oh, I know... but since we only have such short time, I think it may need to be... intense..." I murmur, then lean down and kiss you again. What's it with this kissing? I can't seem to get enough of it... you feel so good..._

“Oh...well, then -” I whisper in between kisses. “Whatever it takes...”

My arms circle your waist, and I pull you towards me.

God, I could just kiss you for hours...

_It feels so dreamy to just lie here in your arms, inside the world of you, away from anything else... feeling just your fingers stroking my back, your strong naked body underneath me, the kissing... the beautiful kissing..._

_I get why people do this now, it makes you feel... high..._

_I want to take off my top and feel your naked skin against mine, but I'm self-conscious... I am so small and skinny - will you be turned off? And there are the needle marks in my arm..._

_Your hand is going underneath my shirt and t-shirt, stroking my protruding vertebrae - ugh I wish I had a fraction of your sexiness and beauty..._

God, you feel amazing...

My skin feels hot all over... I want to feel you against me...

our bodies crushed against each other...

will you want to do - more?

I remind myself to not get too aggressive, to hold back... but I can help you out of your shirt, surely? I’m nothing if not a gentleman, I think to myself, a smile floating to my lips. My hands move to your shoulders, grasp the fabric and gently pull...

_Well - well I'm not going to remain dressed all the time, am I? You can take it or leave it -_

_You pull off my shirt, drop it next to the bed, then move your hands under my t-shirt._

My hands continue their important work of freeing your upper body from unnecessary clothing, lifting your t-shirt up over your torso and then pulling it over your shoulders and head.

I can’t believe I still haven’t seen you undressed... my eyes flicker over your small frame and lean musculature - there’s a fragility to you, but I’ve also seen such ferocity - you’re a survivor, aren’t you...

I can’t help but notice the slightly protruding ribs, and oh... _track marks_. Unexpected...

Not like I haven’t hung out with drug users before, and imbibed their goodies myself. I draw the line at injecting, but I’ve chased the dragon on occasion. It’s just that my preference is substances that won’t interfere with fucking or fighting...

Anyway - _do not_ let him think you’re judging...

If anything, I just want to hole up with you for weeks so you don’t feel the need to anymore...

My hands move to your lower back, and curl possessively around you.

_I'm not resisting... my t-shirt comes next. And your gaze. And your judgement. I swallow._

_Your eyes sweep over me, linger for a moment on my marks, then move on - no shock or disapproval. Your hands just keep on caressing, groping as eagerly as they did before._

_I feel relief - why, Jimmy? What does his opinion of you matter? He's just a momentary distraction, a treat you get to enjoy once._

_Yes, well. I want to enjoy him some more. It won't happen if he's turned off by my naked form, will it..._

_Now you've gone this far, may as well unveil the rest. My hips and legs are skinny, but muscular, and you've already met my cock, and seemed quite enamoured._

_I toe off my trainers. You take that as the invitation it is, and unbutton my jeans, pull on them. I move and help you move them off my legs, pull off my pants while I'm at it, and sit back on your thighs, look at you - assessing - challenging you to find fault._

And there you are... naked at last.

Dark eyes gleaming at me in defiance, as if telling me to take it or leave it.

Like leaving it is an option??

I pull you against me, and kiss you - revelling in the feeling of your skin against mine.

“Fuck... you feel so good,” I murmur.

_Oh..._

_Eyes glowing with desire - looking at *me?!*_

_Yeah - you can't fake that - and I'm pulled close, held, touched, kissed - and you mouth appreciation, and oh fuck -_

_I've never been *desired* - not *me* - not *really* - it's desire for *me*, not for forced intimacy, not for something my mouth, hand, or arse can provide..._

_God this feels good..._

_No - *you* feel good. It works both ways. It's not just your desire, your hands, your kisses, it's *you* doing those things that makes them special._

_"You're so fucking..." I struggle for the right adjective to express everything you are, and come up short._

Aww... have I made you at a loss for words? I smile to myself.

“Yeah? Am I?” I murmur, and move your hair aside so I can kiss your neck.

_'Hm-hmm,' I try to say, but it comes out like "hmmmhrrrrhn" because fuck that feels *good*..._

_I didn't know the neck was an erogenous zone... but mine clearly is, because whatever you're doing is giving me goosebumps, liquid knees, tickles in my pelvis..._

_I shiver as you suck, using just a hint of teeth - *fuuuuck*..._

“Mnm,” I mumble into your neck. You’re sagging against me, but at the same time arching your back like a cat... gripping me tightly.

“God... so fucking hot...” I breathe.

_Hot... yes... that's an adjective... but it's not sufficient, nowhere near encompassing enough for what I meant..._

_I think we're up for round two, though I kind of lost what I had in mind..._

_Regain the initiative, Moriarty. Here is the... hottest, yes, that works, boy you've ever seen, and you've seen what he's into..._

_I grab your hair, arch back your head. I can feel your cock twitch at that... I move to your neck, do the sucking kissing thing that you just did with me, but with just a *bit* more teeth... am rewarded by such a beautiful small moan..._

_I move my mouth to your ear, bite your earlobe as I move off you._

_"Onto your front, Sebastian..." I whisper into your ear._

The moment your fingers grasp my hair and yank my head back, desire shoots through my entire body, making my muscles positively quiver...

god... no one has had this effect on me before...

no one has manhandled me like you...

Or used their teeth on me like you...

Or - _ordered_ me into the position of their choosing.

I exhale slowly, and looking at you, I do as I’m told.

_Those eyes... I’m practically being devoured. Such hunger - for me..._

_And then you’re lying on your front, and I can feast my own eyes on your luscious back, so perfectly formed; strong shoulders sloping into the curve leading up to your magnificent bottom..._

_I reach back for the belt, see the little ripple move through you as you hear it being picked up, move your arms so your lower arms are together, wind the leather back round your wrists._

As I wait, I start feeling light-headed with excitement. What’s going to happen next... are you going to fuck me now?? Or are you going to-

I hear the metallic clink of the belt buckle, and a delicious shiver moves through me.

God... yes...

Within seconds, my arms are positioned, secured, and once again I’m your prisoner...

_You seem well up for this..._

_What about the next bit? The bit I'm *really really* longing for... oh god please Sebastian..._

_I lean over you, lick the back of your neck._

_"Now... I believe my prisoner has some punishment due, doesn't he..."_

_No protest, just shallow breaths..._

_I get up off the bed, move to the wardrobe, get out another belt, walk back, trail it over your beautiful naked arse._

_So gorgeous..._

_So vulnerable..._

_No objections... I think you may be up for this..._

_Prisoner_...

 _Punishment_...

These are very, _very_ good words...

I've hooked up a couple of times with older partners who tied me up - the woman used a cute little leather whip, the man used a suede flogger... it was fucking hot and definitely piqued my interest for more... but even when I told them they could go harder, it didn't make _that_ much of a difference... and in the end I had this strange feeling of being left frustrated and unsatisfied...

The same thing isn't going to happen again, is it... you're younger than they were. But then - they didn't have that _look_ in their eye, of a terrifying predator lurking in their depths... ready to unleash at a moment's notice.

I wait, and then - my breath hitches as the belt drags over my arse...

and _then_ \- a thrilling pause and a _good_ \- _hard_ \- _lash_.

I shiver and let out a long breath.

"You can - go harder," I say quietly, my eyelids fluttering shut.

_That feeling - the leather connecting with your skin - the impact - a shiver -_

_*fuck* this is good –_

_*You can go harder*_

_Did you really say that? Am I hallucinating?? Did I take an overdose and am I imagining heaven before kicking the bucket?_

_"Oh, I will, darling... just warming up..." I purr, then lash again, just below._

_It's clear that you are not too shy to give feedback, so I don't need to worry - can just let go - a bit more... I lash, again, again, and again…_

_You're enjoying this as much as I am, which is just infuckingcredible..._

It begins to feel like a kind of dance between your body and mine...

Me - Eton’s _legendary_ party slut - thought to have seen it all and done it all - has been left _quivering_... and moaning breathily like I’ve never been touched before...

“Oh god,” I whisper. “ _God_... Just - like that...”

_"You seem to be enjoying this punishment a bit too much, Sebastian..." I remark, lash harder._

_You jerk, gasp, groan, move against the bed..._

_I unleash; finally hit three more times, *hard*, and you move and moan so *beautifully* -_

_I have to have you - now -_

_I open the bedside cabinet, take out the lube I put there - I was anticipating a good time, but I didn't want to just welcome you into a room with lube and condoms on prominent display - and start rubbing some onto you._

_"Do you want me, Sebastian?" I whisper._

I’m feeling nearly delirious with the pain and pleasure you’ve unleashed on my flesh, and when you stop I feel like I’m floating even as my skin is throbbing with sensation.

But then I hear sounds, and I grow alert - I know those sounds, and I know what’s coming... oh god...

Guys always want me to fuck them - even older men. Something about my muscles and simmering aggressive energy, I guess. And I enjoy it - but I can barely remember the last time I - was _taken_ -

Your fingers slip into my crack and coat around my opening. I squirm, wanting more -

 _Want_ you??

“Fuck yes I want you,” I groan, my eyes closing.

_I nearly come there and then, but that would be a waste of the most gorgeous arse that God put on this good green earth..._

_I nudge you, help you move half off the bed, so you are kneeling on the floor, your chest resting on the covers._

_Fucking hell._

_The sight of you - your bottom red and stripy, your arms bound, submissively bending over the bed, waiting for *me*..._

Everything after my affirmation is a blur...

somehow I find myself kneeling on the floor, draped over the bed for you.

The tearing sound of the package is next, and my legs are nudged into position, and I feel you – carefully -

perspiration breaks out on my forehead, and I swallow the urge to tell you to _just fuck me_... it’s so tempting... but I want to enjoy every last second of this invasion by you, and _just surrender_ completely...

Up until this moment I was afraid you would stop... pull out… gather your clothes and leave... or worse, tell me to get out.

I’ve never doubted _anyone_ wanted me. But you - even when I can see your desire, I don’t know how far it really goes - when measured against whatever it is that makes you run, and shoot drugs into your veins...

I want you to want me that much - _more_...

as much as I want you...

But as I hear your breath hitching, I’m fairly confident that you’re going to finish what you started - and as soon as I fully relax into it, it’s going to get so - much - better -

I feel a shift in my muscles, and there it is, that feeling of my body surrendering to yours, and it’s so- fucking - beautiful.

“So good,” I moan breathily. “Oh god... so good...”

_Oh good, you're enjoying it..._

_I never understood what people like about being fucked - I hate it with a passion. At best, it's bearable. I know that some people love it - just never people who enlist my services. People who want to be fucked tend to go for bigger lads like Stu._

_But this is as far removed from work as can be... this is pure, unadulterated passion and pleasure... for both of us._

_I am so turned on, I don't think it will take much to push me over the edge, and from the look of you, the same applies to you. Your face is flushed, your hands balled into fists, your breathing rapid, your moans of ecstasy coming fast and frequent._

_And then –_

_\- paroxysm –_

_*Fuck* - "Sebastian -"…_

_I've never come like that, *ever*..._

  
_I am floating among the stars, too lightheaded to stay on earth, galaxies being born in purple fireworks, big bangs beating in the rhythm of my heart..._

_It takes a while before I realize that_ _I'm leaning on your back, trembling, gasping..._

_"Sebastian... That... was... fucking hell..."_

_I lean down, carefully pull out, get rid of the condom, stroke your shoulder, your arms, your back, still so obediently bent over the bed._

_You've earned a treat, Sebastian..._

_I smack your bottom with my hand. "Up."_

The smack brings a stinging sensation to my skin, and a smile to my lips. You have such a proprietary touch, already...

(What ‘already’, Seb? This dalliance has a limited shelf life, remember...)

I ignore my self-chiding, and get up cheerfully. Then you pull me like you own me (fuck, yesss) and suddenly your lips are sliding over me, and there are nails cutting into my sore arse, and it just makes the pleasure _that much more intense_ and my head is falling back, godfuckyesplease, so good, _so good_...

_There we go... you won't need a lot of attention, you're already so on edge after everything that has come before... including me..._

_*fuck* that was the hottest - *ever* -_

_I actually *tied you up* and *whipped* you - *hard* - and you *loved it*..._

I let out a hoarse cry - and then it gets even more intense, and I unleash a cacophony of panting and groaning -

I am faintly aware of falling forward, and the next thing I know I’m looking up at you from the bed.

“Holy fuck...” I say hoarsely, my eyes widening. “How did I - get down here...?”

_"Gravity, my dear," I smile. "Always a bitch..."_

_I let myself drop onto the mattress so our heads are close together, grin at you. "I take it that was satisfactory?"_

“Well, you made me _fall over_... _satisfactory_ isn’t really the word for it...” I grin back breathlessly. Our heads so close, I suddenly feel the urge to caress the hair off your forehead. God... it’s probably a good thing my hands were restrained. Obviously I can’t be trusted...

“Gravity’s not so bad...” I say softly, gazing at you.

Jesus, Sebastian...

_You look so..._

_... sweet..._

_Eyes soft, looking at me, your mouth in a gentle smile..._

_You look - happy. I made you happy..._

_I see a hand touch your temple, stroke your hair..._

_And then my eyes seem to close of their own accord as I kiss you..._

Your face - it’s like the usual armour has slipped off, and what’s underneath is so inquisitive and... _innocent_...

I stare back at you and then remind myself I shouldn’t gawk - it might make you feel self-conscious, and then the armour will return and I’ll have lost this sweet elfin face staring at me -

Taken aback, I feel you stroke my face and hair... and then...

you move closer and your mouth presses against mine...

My lips move against yours softly - not hungrily this time, but like I’m searching for something and the answer is in your kiss...

_Your lips are so smooth and soft... a contrast with the slight stubble around them... I move my lips against them; it feels so nice... then I lick them, feel the tip of your tongue moving out tentatively, flick against it, nip your upper lip with both of mine, which makes you smile, and me giggle..._

_This is so unlike... anything I've ever encountered..._

_But there is nothing else... just you, and me, and this soft bed, and your lips and your tongue, and your beautiful green eyes looking at me..._

_"I should probably untie you now..."_

“That would probably be good,” I agree. “But don’t worry, I won’t try to escape...”

We look at each other for a long moment - and the thought of this night ending and us parting seems to hit us both at the same time.

Your face takes on a stoic look, and my stomach bottoms out - you nudge me to sit up so you can unfasten the belt from my wrists.

You do and when my arms are free, it feels almost strange - like I’ve grown extra appendages that I don’t know how to use...

So I decide the very best thing I could do is to reach out and stroke the hair that’s fallen onto your forehead as you’re looking down at the floor.

You look up at me, and my other hand reaches for you, and I pull you into a kiss with more urgency than before.

When we break off the kiss, I find myself blinking at you in a daze. Jesus...

“I rather like being your prisoner...” I say hoarsely.

_"I like having you as my prisoner..." I reply, then don't know what else to say._

_Cigarettes. Whiskey._

_I get the bottle, take a swig, hand it to you; then dig my shirt up off the ground, take out my cigarettes, offer you one, light it for you._

_Ashtray. On the table._

_I bring it over, put it on the bedside cabinet. Sit down next to you. Light my own cigarette._

_Now what?_

We sit smoking, drinking, and stealing glances at each other.

“So... what does a guy have to do for a second date?” I ask, and hide a suddenly shy smile behind a bottle of whisky. I’ve never felt so not confident in my life - but around you, somehow I don’t mind.

_Second date._

_First date is over._

_You're leaving._

_I don't want you to leave._

_I want you to stay find out everything about you your favourite books your love life your music your thoughts on everything what your father did how you like your tea I need to know -_

_you -_

_I want you to giggle with me like we did earlier I want to keep touching you I want to fall asleep in your arms and have you hold the nightmares at bay -_

_Fucking hell, Jimmy..._

_But - there's no need to play games - you are so open -_

_\- try it -_

_"Do you have to leave already?"_

_Did that sound too needy!?_

You look nearly stricken although it flashes over your face so quickly before it’s extinguished, I can’t be certain. But I do see longing in your eyes, _god_ , I never thought I’d see that...

“What? No!” I look at you in shock at your question. “ _God_ , no... I’m just thinking ahead... I guess I’m paranoid about you taking off,” I admit, my chest feeling lighter. “It feels like I - need to have a plan. So even if you disappear on me, I’ll have a time and place to show up for, and hope for the best...” I stumble over my words. God... this is so weird. I have been in a position like this exactly _never_. David was my best friend, so I didn’t feel like I had to edit any secrets from what was said... well. Mostly.

(God... _stop thinking about it_ , Moran...)

Anyway. _You_ are still such a mystery to me... do you need to be reassured? Or am I treating you with kid gloves unnecessarily??

I take one look at your furrowed brow, your concerned gaze.

“You have me to yourself all night... I’ll just- call Mum in the morning so she doesn’t think I’m dead in a ditch.” I feel a twist of guilt in my heart, and give you a wry smile.

_Not leaving?_

_Paranoid about me leaving?_

_"Well - you run away *three times* and you're stigmatized for life..." I smile._

_Aw. You are scared I'll leave. You want a date for if I do._

_You're too cute for words._

_Oh of course. Mum may worry. Mums do that._

_*PAIN*_

_*Stop* it..._

_I will have to shoot up - at some point. I don't know how you'll respond to that -_

_well, I'm sure you've been around people who have. I can always do it in the bathroom or something._

_"Having you to myself all night..." I purr, leaning closer. "What could I do with a handsome lad who I have *all night*...? First of all, I should make sure he keeps his strength up - would you like some crisps?"_

There seems to be a lot running through your head - I notice you don’t give me an answer about the second date which makes me panic a little but then you’re leaning towards me, and talking suggestively in your _bedroom voice_ which is quickly becoming one of my very favourite things on the planet - and then you offer me _crisps?_ How sweet are you...!

“I have every confidence that you’ll think of something to do with me - clever boy. And crisps would be brilliant...” I take your hand in mine and kiss your knuckles.

_Should I have got you more than crisps?_

_Well you're a seventeen-year-old lad - I'm sure you regularly stay up till dawn on no more than a vast supply of beer._

_Still. I'm supposed to be the host. Kind of._

_I put on some gloves and socks, head to the kitchen, rifle through the cupboards. Cans of stuff - I could make you some soup if you like -, biscuits - I take a roll, as well as the crisps I bought. Ooooh, and chocolate. I love chocolate._

_Armed with my finds I head back upstairs. Again I feel that strange sense of relief when I see you there - like I'm afraid you'll disappear if I let you out of my sight, go up in smoke like a fever dream..._

_I open the bag of crisps, hold it out for you, then take a handful myself. "Is that alright? There's soup, if you're hungry... or beans on toast... how are you doing for beer?"_

_Too solicitous?_

I lie in bed, waiting for you. My body feels so relaxed, and my skin is still stinging rather pleasantly. God... that was _so hot_. I feel little Seb twitch slightly.

Down, boy - don’t want Ricky to come back and find me fully hard and raring to go...

Well, I _do_ want to... but I can wait.

I grin, staring at the ceiling.

I can hear muffled thumping sounds from downstairs. Should I go downstairs to help? But then we’ll both be in the kitchen naked except for gloves and socks... I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep from laughing...

Maybe I could make you breakfast, and add a frilly apron to the ensemble. I snigger at the thought - then I hear footsteps on the stairs.

I feel my heart rate increase. A moment later, you appear with an armful of snacks. I’m handed an open bag of crisps, and I push a handful into my mouth.

“This is great,” I enthuse around the crisps.

I certainly don’t want to put you out by asking you to make me soup, or beans on toast!

“If they left any supplies in the fridge, I could make you breakfast...” I say, munching as I rip open a roll of biscuits. I pull out a stack, then offer you the package.

_Breakfast..._

_Make me breakfast..._

_You would make me breakfast after spending the night together??_

_Oh..._

_I think I may have turned into a cartoon character with hearts for eyes._

_"There's bread in the freezer, and there's beans and hash browns - no fresh stuff of course, but that sounds absolutely dreamy..." I smile._

_*Dreamy!?* Jesus *Christ*, Jimmy..._

_You appear to have been hungry, you're tearing through those crisps and biscuits. I take one biscuit, then head for the chocolate myself. I love chocolate... and this is the good stuff - Cadbury's. I close my eyes as I feel the rich sweetness melt on my tongue. Heaven..._

Your eyes widen at the mention of having breakfast together - or me cooking you breakfast? I smile slowly. Well, now I _have_ to...

“One dreamy breakfast coming up... in just a few hours. Somehow we’ll have to find a way to entertain ourselves until then...” I say with a faux innocent smile, and place a biscuit against your lips. Your lips part and I push it in, grinning like a fool - you crunch it neatly, your eyes glowing like embers.

Fuck - how am I going to leave in just a few hours??

_Just a few hours... well a lot can happen in just a few hours..._

_Like, apparently, biscuit crunching._

_"You're getting crumbs all over the bed," I giggle._

“You’re not going to kick me out of bed for a few biscuit crumbs, are you...” I say, with sad puppy-dog eyes. You snigger, which sends a thrill through me.

Fuck - I need to do that about a thousand more times...

“Because I’ll have to convince you to keep me around... somehow...” I say flirtatiously. Then I put a biscuit half in my mouth, and move my head closer to yours.

You shake your head at me, but you move a bit closer, raising an eyebrow.

“Now _thith_ ith gonna leave crumth-“ I mumble through the biscuit.

A look of pure mischief lights up your face, and you bite down on the biscuit and then pull on it hard. Crumbs and broken biscuit pieces go flying and scatter over the bedcovers.

I stare down at the covers. “Biscuit thief!” I whisper, feigning outrage.

“I’ll thank you not to call me a mere biscuit thief...” you say loftily. “For I am the Destroyer of Biscuits...”

Now it’s me that’s sniggering madly, and I gather up the crumbs and pieces and shove them in my mouth, much to your delight.

“Now who’s the Destroyer of Biscuits...” I say, munching loudly.

_“Destroyer of Crumbs... puny compared to my biscuit destruction powers,” I giggle, then laugh out loud as you spray crumbs sniggering._

_“Se*bas*tian... can’t take you anywhere. What is Mrs Fitzsimons going to say?”_

_I have another bit of chocolate and a sip of my whiskey - so good together - then look at the state of the bed, shake my head._

_“Get off,” I gesture, swipe the crumbs off the bed. You bend over and help, which takes the form of swiping crumbs off me, and ends up tickling me and making me laugh, and I try to reciprocate and you overpower me and I’m laughing uncontrollably until I hiccup, which makes both of us laugh even more..._

_I can’t recall when I’ve last laughed so much... or at all..._

We both end up back on the bed laughing uproariously. I loosen my grip on your arms, and grin at you madly.

“Oops... I’m supposed to be _your_ prisoner,” I purr. “I appear to have run amok...”

_“Prisoners these days... give them a bit of freedom and they’re manhandling you, throwing you all over the furniture, kissing you...”_

_You look at me, get the hint, and we’re kissing again..._

_I’ll never get enough of this..._

I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about manhandling - but then you drop a hint about being kissed??

Fuck, yeah... I can definitely take care of that...

I gaze at you for a moment, then swoop in and god, was there actually a time when we weren’t kissing each other as often as we could? Because for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was like, and I don’t want to...

“I see what you mean. They’re incorrigible...” I murmur before my lips return to yours.

_Mmmmm... less talking, more kissing, Sebastian..._

_Now I've discovered kissing I want to do it all the time. I can't imagine wanting to do this with anyone else. Just you... for as long as I have you..._

_I stroke your skin, so soft, so smooth... the curve of your back, your muscles just underneath, radiating their strength, your shoulders, your arms... oh god your arms... so beautiful, so strong..._

_"Can I chop off one of your arms and keep it as a trophy?"_

I snort. “If I get a say, I’d rather you didn’t. I wouldn’t be as good in a brawl. Or other things...” I say in a breathy voice as my hand begins to travel down your chest and abdomen.

_Hm? Oh, yes... there's that..._

_"But they're so beautiful..." I stroke your other arm. I love the way the veins lie over the muscles, just under the skin... the way they move when you move your hand..._

_We snuggle and kiss and cuddle lazily for a bit._

_"Joint?" you ask. I nod - "Sounds great."_

_You hop up, walk to your jacket, take out your cigarettes and a bag of weed, roll a joint, light it, hand it over. I take a deep draught - good gear..._

_"Unfortunately the Fitzsimonses have no means of playing music in their bedroom, and even if they had - their collection wouldn't be to either of our taste, I'm afraid..." I say, leaning against you, handing back the joint._

“That is a crying shame...”

I take a drag from the joint. “But I thought we kept the beat pretty well on our own...” I say with a smirk.

_"Oh, the beating was all me..." I grin, and your eyes light up._

_Fuck, you really enjoyed that..._

“Oh, I’m not likely to forget _that_ ,” I growl softly.

“You know, you still haven’t given me an answer about a second date... don’t you want to smack me around some more?” I lean in to kiss your neck and playfully nip the skin.

_I breathe in sharply at that, feel my groin stir - wow, already? You are *some* aphrodisiac, my dear Sebastian..._

_"Well, I would love to make the most of the limited time at our disposal... and the Fitzsimonses have kindly given me the run of the premises. Of course, there's also always the Bunker, and some more dancing and scrapping..." I grin._

_Oh fuck it. I can play hard to get, and spend less time with this delectable specimen, for no reason - he's made it more than clear that he wants to spend as long with me as possible._

_I shrug. "I'm flexible - there are no heiresses waiting desperately for a date with me."_

“The heiresses can go fuck themselves. I have plans,” I say, feeling my eyes glint.

“I did tell my mother I would join them for their dinner engagement,” I sigh. “But tomorrow evening good for you? We could meet at the Bunker and go from there?”

_Tomorrow?_

_Oh - yes -_

_"What time do you reckon?" I take the joint back, suck in the smoke._

I look at the clock on the bedside table. “Technically today...” I grin. “Ten?”

_Ten?! Meaning I only have to spend a few paltry hours without you?_

_"Sounds good," I say, then -_

_"I mean - you won't get in trouble for staying out all night, will you?"_

_I really don't want you to go... but if it means I won't see you tomorrow..._

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I say reassuringly.

You don’t seem reassured.

A cocky smile rises to my lips. “Don’t you worry about it. Trouble is my middle name... I’ll be there come hell or high water.”

_"Haven't had any trouble with you..." I grin. "Positively docile..."_

_My hand squeezes your thigh._

My hand covers yours. “Oh, _you_ have tamed the beast,” I purr, squeezing it lightly.

God, your hand is _so close_ I want to drag it a few inches over - but I still feel apprehensive about making the first move. I don’t know why, being sexually forward is like _breathing_ for me...

There’s something about you I haven’t figured out, but it still feels very, very important to let you lead.

“I won’t come out of the cage without permission...” I say with a sly, seductive smile.

_“You weren’t that beastly,” I smile, handing you back the joint. “Sweet little beastie. Hamster.”_

“ _Hamster_ ,” I snort, blowing out smoke. “That’s a first... I thought I was a wolf! Unless I’ve been demoted? Hopefully there’s a way I can get back in your good graces...” I inhale, then lean over to slowly blow smoke into your mouth. Your lips part and it feels like a wave of sensuality passes through us. Your eyes smoulder as you exhale - and I capture your lips in a kiss.

_We kiss in a smoky mist, until you pull back to tip off the ashes._

_"No, on second thought, no wolf…" I muse. "You’re not a pack animal... you’re a lone hunter, stalking the urban jungle for prey... majestic and stealthy, rare and regal..._

_You’re a tiger,” I decree. Somehow when I say it it fits perfectly. Your muscular frame, your graceful moves... yes. Tiger._

My eyes widen and my mind goes blank for a moment.

God... _that’s_ what you think of me??

I feel so... _honoured_ by your assessment of me -

And it’s more significant to me than I ever would have imagined...

I struggle to think of what to say.

“Wow... If you think so, then - it must be so...” I murmur, lowering my head.

_“I’m glad you acknowledge my anthropo-zoomorphic expertise,” I smile as you hand me the joint back._

_“I consider myself quite the specialist, but so rarely get appreciated._

_You even have the stripes!” I point triumphantly at your arse._

I snigger and rub my arse. “Oh, yes I _do_... Since you’re the expert, I suppose that’s why you’d need to whip a tiger into submission... so he won’t run wild and take a piece out of you...” I lift your hand, and then playfully put my teeth over your wrist before nibbling the delicate skin and running my tongue over it. “Mmm... delicious...” I murmur, and begin to nuzzle your palm.

_"Ah yes, it's certainly required to keep sebastigers on a short leash," I purr, shivering as you run your tongue over my wrist. "They're incorrigible... and insatiable, by the looks of it..."_

“Who, me?” I ask, looking up from your palm and giving you an innocent look.

“No one insatiable here...” I say in a husky voice and turn your hand over in mine. Then I begin to plant nipping kisses all along your forearm. “Just being friendly...” I say and flash a lazy smile before I continue up along your bicep.

_Could I...?_

_Again?_

_Well... your little butterfly kisses are certainly causing a stir..._

_And - well you are delicious..._

_I wonder if I could whip you some more?_

_Don't get greedy, Jimmy..._

_Well - there are plenty of other things I'd like to do but they would probably scare you off. You liked the whipping a lot... though - should I let you recover?_

_I hand you the last bit of the joint, you take a few tokes, and extinguish it._

_What would it feel like to do that on you..?_

_Yes, see Jimmy, that's exactly the kind of thing you *don't* do when you want another date. Fucking hell - where are you ever going to find a guy who will kneel on demand and let himself be tied up and whipped?_

_Hmmm... maybe I could focus on some other body parts?_

_"Be right back - I'll get you some more beer," I breeze, and head to the kitchen, come back with another lager, top up your whiskey. I still have plenty._

_Fuck, you look sexy..._

When I reach your shoulder, you tell me you’re going to get more beer.

I guess it was a bit much, angling for more sex so soon?

Am I being - demanding? Needy??

Fuck... I need to cool down...

I stare at the ceiling, feeling agitated.

You didn’t seem bothered at all - but there’s always so much going on in your mind...

It looks like you’re doing complex maths on a massive chalkboard in your mind...

What if the answer you reach is ‘Sebastian is clingy as a schoolgirl and I need to cut him loose??’

I look nervously at the doorway, waiting for your return.

_Why are you looking nervous?_

_I do want to know more about you..._

_Maybe a little chat? I know you're hungry for sex, but I'm a junkie, sweetheart... it takes me a bit longer to get going again. But don't worry, I will._

_I put the lager down for you, kiss you, plonk down next to you, grab my own lager._

_"So - what's your life like, in London? What do you like doing?"_

Shit, really? I hardly want to talk about Eton; you’ll think I’m a spoiled, rich twat.

But then, you asked what life was like in _London_ \- that I can do.

“The usual, I guess - partying with friends. The occasional brawl. And the not so usual, too - with certain friends I get up to a bit more -“

Your eyes spark with interest. “More-?” you coax.

“Mmm, no reason to be coy, I suppose -“ I smile. “OK, illegal activity. A little vandalizing... Some trespassing... A tiny bit of breaking and entering. Can’t forget the theft. Or the reckless driving... Or the occasional spot of arson. And then there’s my favourite -“

You look at me, eyes widening.

“Explosives,” I say, caressing the word like a lover. “Nothing in the world quite like blowing shit up...” I sigh.

Then concern cuts through my dreamy reminiscing. Shit - did I admit too much? Did I sound _mental??_ I mean, I know you steal wallets and shoot up - but I just listed a laundry list of crimes as my _hobbies_... with _explosives_ like a cherry bomb on top.

“Ehm... I also like working out, films, and reading...” I say nervously. “My life isn’t a nonstop crime spree, or anything...”

_*Interesting...*_

_I think my eyes are shining at this. You're rich, so these activities stem from proclivity rather than necessity._

_Where does that come from? A dissatisfaction with society - more than that, antagony - because..._

_society rejected you. Hurt you. Linked to your father, as well - I guess you could see Lord Moran as the pinnacle of English society…_

_So - what was it about you, handsome rich intelligent well-born white English guy, that society rejected? Was it you being bi? Have you been particularly hurt by homophobia?_

_Curious..._

_And apart from that - the simple adrenaline rush. You love living dangerously - we gathered that..._

_And you like stuff going boom. Well - who doesn't?_

_I notice you tactfully avoiding the subject of sex, which, judging from how you shagged a girl and were pretty close to shagging a second on Sunday, would also seem a favourite pastime._

_*Mine*._

_Jimmy. You can't keep him._

_*Mine!*_

_Well he quite clearly is for this week. So no being jealous, ok?_

_"So - what book are you reading at the moment?”_

You do that thing you do when I answer a question - almost like you’re testing the information - turning it over to examine it from different angles, smelling it, tasting it...

I have no idea what you do with it, but I know one thing. I need not have worried - the information I gave you about my proclivities was found to be intriguing.

You like a bad boy, but not just any bad boy... _me_...

I feel something glowing where I remember my heart used to be...

“Nothing too heavy in the summer, I get enough of that during the school year. I’m reading Cabal by Clive Barker...”

I see you beginning to turn the information over...

“And Queen of the Damned...” I admit. “Not my usual fare, but I - liked The Vampire Lestat. A lot.”

You tilt your head, seeming to consider this.

“Wandering alone in the world...” I say softly. “Fearing he’ll never be known by anyone...“

Your eyes glow.

“Compelling. And ehm, also... The Satanic Verses.”

You look at me, intrigued.

I shrug. “Didn’t think we’d read it in school, and - rather hardcore response to a novel. Made me curious.”

“Did it...?” you say softly.

“Yeah... Nothing like people not wanting something experienced. Pretty much need to try it for myself...” I give you a wry grin.

_Horror, supernatural - pretty standard fare. I like your identification with Lestat..._

_Rushdie - unexpected. Again, the lure of the forbidden..._

_All quite recent novels, and I bet you buy them rather than wait for the library to have them in…_

_"So did it meet your expectations, the Satanic Verses? I thought it ironic how it‘s very much an indictment of western society and its arrogance and self-indulgent complacency, but it's the Islamic fundamentalists who get their knickers in a twist..."_

A smile breaks out across my face. You’re a clever one, aren’t you?

“I haven’t read enough to say - I have yet to witness any indictments, or catalysts for twisted knickers... sounds bloody uncomfortable, though. Enough to make any fundamentalist crabby...”

I grin at you. “The questions can’t _all_ be mine... What are you reading?”

_That's an innocent enough question._

_"The Silence of the Lambs - it's not bad for a thriller. I just finished A Brief History of Time - did you read that?"_

“Theoretical physics isn’t really my thing... I have more of an appreciation for applied science,” I say with a rakish grin, then look at you in surprise. “Did you read it for school?”

A shake of the head.

“Just - on your own?”

A small smile.

“Jesus...” I mutter. “Where were you when I was doing physics?”

_"It's interesting," I shrug._

_Mam always warned me not to be too clever - being too clever got me beaten up. People don't like it when you're too clever._

_You are different, but - I don't want you thinking I'm a freak._

_"I don't understand all of it, but it fascinates me."_

_Better._

_"So, your friends - what are they like? Are they from school?"_

_I don't have friends - I don't really see the appeal. I always thought it was a herd mentality, instigated by the weak to get protection from the strong - but you're not a herd animal. What's your motivation?_

And neatly lobbed back to me. You’re truly not fond of questions, even easy ones.

“My friends?” I shrug again. “My friends from school are-“

Rich and entitled. Even though they like to act like they’re bad...

There’s only so far you can escape from your roots while you’re still living off the spoils of the aristocracy...

 _Right, Seb?_ I shift uncomfortably.

“They’re alright... what you’d expect, I suppose. Privileged backgrounds and acting like hooligans. Although some of them have scholarships-“

 _Had_ a scholarship. An image of David’s face flashes into my mind, and I suppress a wince.

“Then there are friends I’ve met at parties... they’re the ones I get into criminal hijinks with. So they’re all just people I’ve known forever, people I drink with, and do stupid shit with. No one I’m really close to...”

 _Anymore_.

I suddenly have the urge to throw the whisky against the Fitzsimonses’ beautiful floral wallpaper - but I just sit and drink it, my hand tightening against the bottle.

_Whoa. That's a sore point. Pain, anger -_

_A friend lost? Someone you thought you could trust? It's very deep though - like a brother?_

_I understand losing a brother..._

_"I don't really have friends. I was close to my brother - he is just two years younger than me."_

_What the *fuck* Jimmy!?_

_I... don't know... I was trying to - let him know I knew how it felt -_

_You are not having any more weed if this is what it does to you!! Now what?!_

_"He's - in a kids' home. I'm not allowed to see him. I miss him."_

My ears perk up - are you actually telling me about yourself?

You grow quiet for a moment.

I guess that’s it, but that’s - huge.

“Whoa. That’s- _awful;_ they shouldn’t keep you from seeing him-”

Don’t ask questions, _do not_ -

But-

 _NO_. There must be a reason he can’t visit, and it can’t be good.

“I’m - so sorry to hear that, Ricky...” I gently lay my hand on your arm. Then I hesitate.

“My best friend - died.” My voice doesn’t waver, and my face settles into stone. “I understand missing someone... who was everything to you.”

_*What the fuck are we doing?!*_

_You don’t *open up* to people Jimmy - that’s how you get found and arrested!_

_He’s not going to tell anyone._

_You can’t trust *anyone!*_

_I didn’t tell him anything. Just that I miss my brother._

_And then you say -_

_Oh._

_*Oh.*_

_*That’s* the pain._

_Your best friend - except he was more than your friend, wasn’t he?_

_Your love..._

_And - you feel - anger, guilt - as well as pain -_

_Don’t go digging Jimmy -_

_Say you’re sorry to hear it. It’s what people say. It’s what he said._

_“I’m so sorry to hear that, Sebastian.” I stroke your hand._

_Something else?_

_“It’s terrible to miss someone you love.”_

_What a trite commonplace - of course it is - he bloody knows -_

_Well that’s what people do when they commiserate! They state the bleeding obvious with a sombre face and people appreciate it!_

_You nod like it’s meaningful. Thank fuck._

_I’m *so* out of my depth - how did I get here??_

My heart starts to race. I don’t talk about that.

I _don’t talk about it._

And what you do care about a ‘best friend’ of someone you barely know, when you can’t see your own brother? What happened to you??

I can’t ask, and I can’t say another word about my situation-

I _don’t- know - what - to - do -_

Your voice. Soothing. Hand on my hand.

Kind words. Understanding.

My throat is closed up, so I just nod my appreciation.

Swallow hard.

Exhale slowly. Look at you.

You seem just as fucked up about this as me... face pale, eyes wide...

Which means - yet again you understand and I don’t need to explain it to you.

My shoulders sag.

“ _Out of life’s school of war- What does not destroy me makes me stronger..._ ” I say tightly. “You believe that?”

_"I don't know, Sebastian... I know that that which does not destroy us can seriously fuck us up._

_Are we stronger, though fucked-up? Maybe..._

_Nicht um von Schrecken und Mitleiden loszukommen, nicht um sich von einem gefährlichen Affekt durch dessen vehemente Entladung zu reinigen – so verstand es Aristoteles –: sondern um, über Schrecken und Mitleid hinaus, die ewige Lust des Werdens selbst zu sein – jene Lust, die auch noch die Lust am Vernichten in sich schließt - seems like that at least is true... But I don't see that ewige Lust des Werdens in me or you. Does that make us weak?"_

You launch into German, and I’m so stunned I miss the beginning of what you’re saying - quickly I change gears and call up my memory of that passage by Nietzsche.

“You don’t see Lust for Life in us?” I consider this for a moment. “Depends how you define it, I guess. Every minute I’ve spent with you feels like Lust des Werdens to me... every _second_.”

Your eyes lift to mine, and once again I find myself being carefully assessed.

Shit... stop talking, Seb.

Ah well, in for a penny...

“Compared to everyone else I know, it seems to me we’re the only two who have it - at least in a form _I_ can recognize. Are we weak in how we live our lives?”

I think of your track marks, the nights I’ve spent getting plastered, and wondering if I should throw myself off a bridge. “Maybe. And maybe it’s _the world_ that’s given us nothing to feel lust for life _about_ \- after the shitty hands we’ve been dealt. And honestly, Ricky - I don’t see _any_ examples out there that I’d hold up as getting it right. Maybe musicians,” I relent. “But then - look how often they’re fucked up, too. Maybe that’s what Nietzsche is saying... the Dionysian approach. Fuck the pain and sorrow, and do what feels good - _whatever_ that means for you... even if it kills you in the end...” I down my lager, and throw the can across the floor. You watch it roll, and bump against the wall.

“But then I’m deep in my cups...” I say wryly. “And if I attempt an analysis of philosophical treatises... I may end up sounding like an utter twat.”


	7. Fall

_Oh shit - do you even know German? Should I know German?_

_Should I have read *bloody Nietzsche* in German? Which fourteen-year-old does that??_

_Well, too late. And you don't seem perturbed - continue the conversation. In a remarkably intelligent manner for a normal person._

_"I see that - but the issue with the Dionysian approach is that it muddles the senses by involving oneself too close with the subject matter, whereas if one follows the Apollonian approach of distancing, one can strive to get an insight into the mechanics of life itself, and thus acquire a grip on it - knowledge is power._

_You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I don't usually indulge in - any of this. Drink, talk, sex... being close with a person..."_

_You_ however manage to sound like a lofty intellectual, despite the drinking and the late hour... Jesus. This probably says far less about state-run schools in Ireland and more about your mind.

I shake my head. “Wow... well speaking as someone who clearly doesn’t mind his senses being muddled, I’ll have to take your word for it. Apollo killed the serpent at Delphi, as you probably already know - the original oracle. Before establishing his own temple and oracle, under his control. So sometimes, knowledge is power... and sometimes _killing your competitor and seizing_ power is power.” I grin and shrug. “I’d rather indulge in base pleasures and urges, to be honest. I follow my blood - always have. And if this is out of the ordinary for you, and just a stopping point on your journey, then - I’m glad to have been a part of it, even in a small way...”

Being _close_ , you said... does that mean you feel close to me?

The glow in my heart grows brighter...

_"Either one works. I haven't found a competitor to kill yet, so I'll stick with the pursuit of knowledge, while you pursue harmony in chaos. We'll see who gets there first - wherever 'there' is..."_

_I don't think I'm quite making sense any more. But at least we got away from dangerous relationship territory to safer philosophical debate._

_"And I'm really glad you're here as a base pleasure for me to indulge in... if there were more indulgences like you, I might partake more often..."_

We’ll see who gets there first? Sounds almost like a challenge...

I find myself hoping our paths cross again one day, so we can compare notes and toast the winner. I wonder if you’ll give me your phone number if I ask... after all, what’s to stop me from visiting Dublin on my own one day?

Whoa... slow down, speed racer... you have no idea if he’d even be open to such a thing. All that talk about Apollonian distancing, and not _indulging_ in sex and... closeness.

I suppress a shiver. Closeness is _dangerous_. Toying with closeness for a week is one thing, but making plans for the future...? Tread carefully, Moran...

But then you steer the conversation towards base pleasures, and I’m back on stable ground again...

“There aren’t any indulgences like me, I’m afraid...” I feign wistfulness. “You’ll just have to get your fill of base pleasures with me... over and over and over...”

_"And here I was hoping that London was full of them, and all I needed to do was cross the Irish Sea to find swathes... well, I'll have to indulge as much as I can and get my fill from this rare treat before I retreat in my Apollonian cerebration..."_

_I climb onto your lap, kiss your neck, bite slightly._

_"Do you think you're up for some more Lust des Werdens?"_

Suddenly I have a lapful of sweet, delicious Ricky... my head falls back as you bite my neck.

“London is _not_ full of them... and I’d better not hear about you doing an exhaustive study,” I growl playfully.

Jesus - did I just get _jealous?_

Idiot.

Just ignore that, please...

“You don’t know me nearly well enough if you have to ask...” I purr, my arms sliding around your waist. “My Lust des Werdens is off the charts, baby...”

_Oh how cute - you are *jealous*!_

_And well up for round three. I'm sure I could be persuaded..._

_So - what else can I do with you?_

_"You're not telling me what to do again, are you, Sebastian..." I growl into your neck._

Oh, right...

“Mmm... did I?” I ask in a low husky voice, burying my face in your hair.

“I didn’t mean to...” I whisper in your ear. “I hope I can make amends...”

_"Let's see if you can... why don't you kneel on the floor for me..." I whisper, then bite your neck again, slightly harder this time._

I stand, lifting you up from under your thighs - here we go again, I think with pleasure.

I pause for a moment, gazing up at you - my lips brush against yours, and I set you down carefully.

Then I kneel on the floor, and look up.

_Well done, Jimmy - he likes that._

_You're sitting on the floor on your knees, looking up at me, your hands loosely lying on your thighs, palms up - surrendering to me._

_And I am the King of the World, receiving the lands' most handsome youths as my tribute... to do with as I please..._

_"So beautiful..." I muse, looking at your naked body, stroking my hand along your jaw, enjoying the feel of the stubble._

_"But there's nothing as beautiful as your face just slightly wincing... your voice gasping - or moaning... do you think you could do that for me again?"_

Things shift as soon as you look down at me - like you’re surveying your realm.

And your subject.

Jesus...

I feel my breath hitching as your hand runs over my jaw - so possessively...

And then you speak, and it’s like the world is suspended with bated breath, and then rearranges itself.

“I’m guessing you could make that happen...” I say, my voice gruff.

God - were we the idiots laughing our arse off just a few moments ago? Who are we now??

_Desire in your voice, definite desire in your body, your eyes..._

_You are the best tribute the King could ever receive, Sebastian._

_I reach for the small bundle I brought up when I went to the kitchen, open it up, take out the two wooden clothes pegs. I tried them out, pulled the springs slightly so they're not *too* tight, but they’ll get worse the longer I leave them. Which is up to me..._

My eyes fall on the clothes pegs in your palm - really?

I’ve heard of nipple clamps before, but never used them - so much out there to discover...

and it looks like I’m about to have a new experience...

I inhale sharply as you apply one. “God...” I mutter, as pain and adrenaline course through my body.

I look at you, my heart racing. “Good start... Sir...”

_You like it - even though it's hard to bear, you really like it. And get back to the honorific without me saying anything..._

_How incredible are you?? Can I just keep you here forever?_

_The other nipple. A hiss, eyes screwed shut, then looking back up at me, pupils large, breath shallow._

_"How's that, my Sebastian?" I ask, leaning down to kiss you._

I choke out a laugh... too overwhelmed to speak as endorphins are added to the cacophony of sensation.

"Fuck..." I breathe, my eyes closing. "It's fucking intense, that's how it is..."

You remain silent.

My eyes open and I see you raising an eyebrow at me, smiling slyly.

I laugh again, shaking my head. "Jesus," I mutter. "What else have I been missing out on?"

_"You've been missing out on me..." I reply, my confidence soaring now I have you in this position. Fuck, you're perfect... fucking *perfect*..._

_I stand up off the bed, pick up one of the belts again._

_"Kneel up, put your hands on the side of the bed."_

_I relish the sight of your backside - broadish shoulder area elegantly curving into a small waist, the most callipygean arse ever witnessed, strong straight thighs. Your bottom is still quite red from earlier, so I lash the belt across your shoulders._

My heart soars at ‘you’ve been missing out on me’...

 _God... you have no idea how true that is_... I think before shushing myself for such thoughts.

I watch you as you languorously rise and look back at me - a belt hanging from your hand. As I wait for you, I feel your eyes sweep over my body.

Unexpectedly I feel the belt crack against my shoulders.

God... yes... more...

_That looks good - an indrawn breath, but staying in position, and a delicious twitch…_

_We got ourselves a bona fide masochist here, Moriarty._

_*Too bad we're going to have to give him back...*_

_No, that's a long time from now. Any time but the present is an illusion... and the present is *magnificent*._

_I lash again, and again... spacing the lashes out nicely, relishing the little moves you make now you have more space to move - but you hold your pose so obediently; god, you are superb, specially engineered to be perfect for me, god's gift to Jimkind..._

As the belt lashes against my shoulders and back... my body jerks... I inhale sharply... let out breathy little grunts and moans...

and as you continue my head falls forward and I bite my lip to try to stifle louder noises.

Fucking hell... _so good_...

_You’re shivering and shuddering with each lash, but you stay in position, offering your back to me, your body to me, to do with what I want..._

_Do you have *any* idea what you’re doing to me Sebastian?? I’ve never done anything remotely like this... and neither have you from the sound of it, and that makes me oddly happy... I want you to keep this forever, remember me always..._

_The boy who brought you to your knees and made you groan... so beautifully..._

_When I reach your arse I aim a few strokes across the ones that are already there, making you moan so sweetly, then move on to your thighs. Not a gram of fat between your muscles and the skin, this has to hurt..._

When I feel the belt against my thighs, it’s a whole new world of pain-

Unexpectedly I gasp and my eyes smart, and I blink back wetness furiously.

Jesus. Way to look like a crybaby, Moran...

The next lash, I’m a bit more prepared - but I still have to bite the inside of my cheek to not cry out.

Fuck... feels like it’s cutting into my flesh. Is it?? When you stop, will I be bleeding?

As you keep going, control over my responses begins to slowly crumble. My eyelids flutter shut... my lips part... and I groan loudly.

“Holy... _fuck_...” I mutter, my head falling back.

_Oh god -_

_*tears*_

_*groans* -_

_But you still don’t resist, don’t make any move to stop me, don’t say anything - just bear it._

_Dangerous, Sebastian... what could I do? How far could I go?_

_So tempting - but the last thing I want is to scare you away; keep yourself under control, Jimmy, this is the best thing that ever happened to you..._

_I finish with hard lash across your bottom which makes you moan, then move to the bed, sit in front of you - oh *fuck* your eyes wet has to be the most beautiful sight *imaginable* -_

_You look up at me and I reach for you, so keen, so longing for me, and I stroke you, and your eyes go big and then narrow, and you breathe quickly; and then I raise my other hand and take the peg off your left nipple, and your head jerks back at the sensation of the blood pouring back in, and your cock jumps –_

Your lashes... Oh god oh god...

You’ve stopped and suddenly you’re sitting in front of me - and I can’t do anything to stop the wetness in my eyes, but when you see them your eyes glow...

and then - you’re stroking me and it feels so _good_ and the clothes peg is removed, and Jesus _Christ_ that hurts...

pain and pleasure are interweaving in the most intoxicating way...

“Oh fuck...” I murmur. “ _Fuck_...”

_"Come for me, Sebastian..." I whisper, and take the other peg off._

The abrupt pleasure-pain and your silky whisper weave together, and it’s too much to stop myself from crying out hoarsely as I come in hot, shuddering waves of ecstasy...

_God... fuck... yes..._

_*Fuck* you're amazing... your eyes screwing shut, your shudders, coming *again*, the third time tonight, coming for *me*, because *I will it*..._

_And once again I push you down, onto my cock, because I need to come too for the third time, which is inconceivable, but then everything that's happened tonight is inconceivable, and I'm riding high, and I'll never come down..._

Oh god... so... amazing...

I’m still desperately trying to catch my breath when suddenly my head is being pushed down, and my lips are opening to take you in, oh fuck yes...

I’ve always enjoyed pleasuring a partner, making them moan and writhe helplessly, but you - oh with _you_ it’s not just about pleasure...

There’s a feeling of submitting to your desire, and I can’t tell you how hot that is, even though I’ve already come so hard - I’m still feeling aftershocks of my orgasm as I suck you, moaning with my own pleasure.

_Your mouth is *divine*, and you apply yourself to your task with such dedication and passion, that it again doesn't take long for me to shudder my delight into you._

_Trembling, I fall back onto the bed._

_"Fucking hell, Sebastian... you're going to be the death of me..."_

I swallow with pleasure.

“God, I hope not,” I murmur, feeling a trembling in my muscles. I crawl onto the bed and collapse next to you.

Was I supposed to wait for you to tell me to-? Is that part of the game? You seem too relaxed and breathless to be concerned about it, anyway.

“So what now? Watch a film and then watch the sun rise? Or do you want to sleep?” Lightly I run my fingers over your silky smooth bicep, thrilled at the sensation.

_"Calm down, I don't know what planet I'm on yet..." I say, still riding the high of the orgasm._

_But there's another high that's calling. If I don't shoot up soon, I'm going to feel bad. I can feel it nudging at the edges of my body._

_"I know you've seen the marks - and understood what they stand for. So - I'll need to cook up soon. You're welcome to have some - to smoke, I don't ever share needles. Or - if it turns you off, I can go in the bathroom. Whatever."_

_I sound more confident than I feel. I'm self-conscious about my habit - I absolutely hate that I have a chemical dependency - such a pathetic weakness. But I'm not going to sneak around and hide in the bathroom with you knocking on the door. This is what you get - take it or leave it._

I watch you as you pant, looking blissful. But after a moment, your face grows solemn. Almost hard. I listen to your speech, keeping my expression neutral.

You sound defiant. But you don’t need to worry about me...

“Understood...” I say in a sombre voice. “None for me, thank you. I’ve smoked it before, but - I don’t want to be too obvious this week about my more harmful proclivities, if you know what I mean - it’s kind of a last favour to my mum...” I trail off. Does that sound utterly juvenile? Jesus, I must sound like a twat. But I made her a promise and I don’t want to let her down...

And anyway, I prefer to know you’re alright than get totally high... I like the idea of watching over you...

“You do what you need to do, wherever you want. I’m good...” I say, hoping I sound reassuring and non-judgmental... and not like a condescending arsehole.

_"Alright. I'll probably be a bit zoned out after... I usually use it before sleeping. We can sleep, or just lie together?" I look at you, afraid that you're going to turn away, going to leave - but I have to have my hit, I'm not going to be much fun otherwise..._

_"I'm fine with whatever. I'll probably fall asleep too..." you say, and smile - that sweet disarming smile you have. It looks like you are trying to tell me not to worry. So - I won't._

_I move the little table next to the bed so I won't have to move. Then I go to the bathroom, have a piss, wash my hands, head back into the bedroom._

_I take my works out of my jacket's inside pocket, lay them out on the little table. Tourniquet, syringe and needle, water, little packet of citric acid, cotton ball, alcohol wipe, spoon, candle, lighter, gear, tissue._

_Light the candle. Open the little bag and pour the precious grains into the spoon. Suck some water into the syringe, carefully squirt it into the spoon. Add a little bit of citric acid - too much wrecks your veins._

_Hold the spoon over the candle, carefully stir with the needle until the grains have dissolved._

_Put the cotton ball into the spoon, stick the needle in, suck the solution into the chamber of the syringe._

_Put the tourniquet on. Swab my arm with the alcohol wipe. Spot the vein - stick in the needle. Suck back gently - blood appears, good. Release the tourniquet._

_Push._

_The plunger._

_Down._

_Sheer._

_Fucking.._

_Unadulterated..._

_Bliss...._

_... pull out the needle. Onto the table..._

_... tissue on arm..._

_Lean back..._

_There's an arm - a shoulder - a face._

_"Sebastian..." I smile._

I watch you closely to make sure you’re not doing anything that will fuck you up too much - which is admittedly a strange thought to have about someone shooting heroin into their veins. But you seem to have a head on your shoulders about it, dangerous and self-destructive though ‘it’ is.

And who am I to judge, anyway - flirting with death is how I deal with being alive.

Who am I kidding - it’s more than a _flirtation_ \- I give death a wet, hungry kiss every chance I get, and see if I make it to the other side alive.

Sometimes it’s drugs.

Sometimes it’s mad, reckless behaviour involving heights, or fast cars, or drunken brawls with weapons.

Sometimes it’s sitting on a tall bridge and wondering if tonight is the night that I’ll do it. The night I’ll jump.

If it hadn’t been for the thought of Mum being left behind - grieving me, and alone with my Father... I would have disappeared a long time ago.

I would have followed David into the blackness of night - with no fucking regrets.

So I have no right to judge.

And yet.

I don’t want you to do this.

I can’t stop you, I can’t tell you not to...

we all survive the darkness one way or another.

Every day we see the sun rise is a victory of sorts...

only an empty one.

But for the first time in a long time... When I greet the new day it will be with you.

And - that means something.

You’re finished shooting up, and you lean against the headboard.

I move closer to you, slide my arm around you - and look at you closely. I know the signs of an OD, but you seem alright.

You say my name, and beam at me - and my heart _sings_.

“Yeah, Ricky... I’m right here,” I murmur, and gently stroke your face.

_I can see you in perfect clarity now - so beautiful, but there's something else there -_

_You care._

_You *actually* care what happens to me. You're looking me over, making sure I'm alright, I'm not in any danger..._

_Oh *Sebastian*..._

_"You're so sweet..." I smile. "So beautiful, and so sweet... I am so glad you are here, Sebastian."_

_Oh_... are you just high, or - are you actually telling me how you feel about me?

“So are you...” I smile back, glowing at your compliments as I caress your hair. “And - there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

_Your fingers in my hair feel lovely, smooth caress..._

_"I don't usually like being with people... neither do you; you said. But you're - really pleasant to be with. I feel - relaxed. Warm... I so rarely do._

_Thank you."_

You’re _thanking_ me? God...

Do you have any idea what this means to me?

No - how could you possibly??

And I can’t let you know - as soon as your feet hit the ground, you wouldn’t stop running...

“Yeah, you’re not like anyone else... “ I say quietly. “I feel like I could just curl up for days here, you know?” I press my lips against your cheek. “And it is so beyond my pleasure to make you feel good...” I whisper into your hair.

Whoops. That’s exactly the kind of thing you’re not supposed to say, Moran.

Fuck.

Oh well. You’re high, you probably won’t remember me spouting romantic foolishness.

“Shall we get comfy and get some sleep? Do you need anything? Water?”

_"Just you..." I purr. I feel like a happy kitty; held, petted, warm, satisfied._

_"Are you comfortable? Is there anything else you want?"_

_You shake your head, smile. Your smile has to be the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. So many teeth, each one of them expressing happiness... and your eyes, deep and green, radiating sweetness and care... I have never seen such eyes -_

_I lift my hand, let it travel all the way to your temple, stroke your golden hair._

_I want to say something, express to you how good this is, but I don't know the words._

_I've said beauty. I've said thanks. I've said sweetness._

_I just snuggle close to you._

_Your arms fold around me, and gulfs of warmth flow through me - no one has held me for such a long time... and the one who used to is gone for ever..._

_The pain is - numb, like this -_

_But you are feeling so much better - there's no threat, no danger, no need to stay alert - I can just - relax._

_Usually I can only relax when I'm alone, but this is - like - a step up from that. Because when I'm alone, I always need to keep an eye out - is anyone coming near me? Touching me? Stealing me? Robbing me? Hurting me?_

_But now no one can touch me, because you are around me, and you are big, and strong, and fierce... and you care._

_I vaguely register you moving and darkness descending - you've turned off the bedside lights._

_And then there is only sweet blackness and warm arms._

God, you look so happy - and yeah, I know you’re high on fucking heroin, but -

The look on your face takes my breath away.

 _Just you_.

You touch my hair and I smile at you in wonder.

Then I enfold you in my arms, and I feel your body - slowly - let - go -

Like it has to remember how...

You let out a long sigh, and I bury my face in the back of your neck.

Dimly I feel like something is cracking around my heart and flaking off... just small amounts, but - what the fuck is that, Seb?

Maybe I’d normally be terrified and on high alert, but I’m so focused on you, I push it aside - for now.

“Sweet dreams, Ricky,” I sigh into your sweet skin. And as much as I want to stay awake to watch over you, eventually my eyelids begin to close - and I tell myself I’ll rest my eyes for _just a few minutes_ so I can be more alert for the rest of the night.

And then I sink into the darkness, protesting weakly.

_I feel stirring. It's too early for stirring._

_I have to fight upwards from a very deep darkness, but it's important -_

_\- because there is stirring. There shouldn't be stirring, should there?_

_Georgie? No, Georgie is gone..._

_One of the others... Maybe I fell asleep on the couch..._

_No - this is a bed. Big stirring - Stu?_

_No -_

_\- alertness struggles to rise -_

_*Sebastian*._

_I open my eyes, see you sit up, a cigarette between your lips._

_"Oh sorry," you say. "I didn't mean to wake you..." Your smile, so beautiful and sleep-tousled, disarming even the most armoured..._

_"I'll have to phone my mum in a bit - she must be worried," you say._

_"Yeah - of course," I croak, try to gather my limbs, but fail, so I just snuggle up to your hip, my hand on your leg._

Oh shit - now I feel bad about waking you up.

And worse that I secretly wanted to.

But - you’re awake now. And _touching me_.

Smoking or calling Mum is paling in comparison to lying next to the sleepy kitten blinking up at me - I throw the cigarette onto the bedside table, and flop down next to you.

“Morning,” I murmur. My stomach is filling with butterflies as I gaze at you. “Do you need more sleep?”

_You're even more beautiful in the morning than at night. Softened by sleep, your eyes look so kind and generous, I want to drown in your gaze and never come out..._

_"Hmmm..." I respond, pulling you closer. But no - don't be selfish Jimmy. Or - do be selfish. If he gets in trouble with his mam he might have trouble sneaking out tonight. And we don't want that._

_"Mno I'm alright..."_

“Sleep well?” I ask, flying high on how you’ve responded to me.

You nod, looking at me with glowing eyes.

You don’t seem tired of me, like I was worried about... If anything, you seem even more enamoured of me than before.

My heart flutters.

“Me too. Best sleep during a break and entry _ever_ ,” I grin.

We both stare at each other soulfully for a moment.

“Alright - the sooner I make this call, the sooner it’ll be done...” I sigh, and get up. I slide on pants and socks, and a pair of gloves. I’d rather make the call from downstairs - god knows what I’m going to tell her. Not that she hasn’t heard it all before. But there’s a lot riding on this week.

“Back soon,” I say softly, and slip out.

It feels like wrenching myself away from you to leave the room...

As I make my way downstairs, I observe the luxurious decor, roll my eyes, and head for the kitchen.

I paw through the pantry and refrigerator to see what kind of breakfast I can make for you. I rarely get to cook, but I so enjoy it.

Alright - enough delaying. Make the call, Moran.

I think for a moment, recalling the number of the house. Suddenly I picture my father answering and I nearly slam the phone down. I glance at the clock on the wall - ten. Hopefully he’ll be headed out to one of his endless meetings, but what if it’s a late start today?

“Hello?” Mum answers, and my shoulders sag with relief.

“Mum, it’s Sebastian...”

“Sebastian! Where are you? Are you alright?” she says fretting, and I feel a twinge of guilt.

“Fine. I made a couple of friends, and we watched films last night. I ended up falling asleep... I’m sorry I didn’t call, but by the time I woke up it was quite late...”

There’s a moment of silence. Mum’s not stupid. But she also doesn’t like to engage in conflict. “Sebastian, I do hope these new friends of yours are good people. Why don’t you make plans with the lovely young ladies and gentlemen you’ve been meeting with us?”

“That’s an idea, Mum,” I say, my eyes closing. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know I’m fine. And I’ll be there tonight.”

“Alright, Sebastian,” she says, sounding concerned. “Do show up with enough time to get ready...”

“Of course...” I say shaking my head. “See you before dinner...”

“Goodbye, dearest,” she replies, and I mumble my farewell before hanging up.

I sigh, then look at the stairs. My heart lifts and I head back to the bedroom and you.

_You're making the call away from me?_

_Fine - of course - but -_

_I trust you, but -_

_Oh sod it._

_I pick up the receiver of the bedside phone when I hear the soft chime indicating the downstairs handset being lifted, hold it to my ear, careful not to breathe too loudly._

_You do, indeed, phone your mum. And make up an excuse. She doesn't buy it, but she's already forgiven you._

_I bristle at the *lovely young ladies and gentlemen*. Stupid posh wankers always looking after their own. She wants to marry you off to some 'lovely young lady' to make some lovely young babies to keep the lovely line intact and fuck any poor plebeians that you might want to hang out with - they're forgivable as a distraction only up to a point, Sebastian, because then you need to grow up, Sebastian, and take the responsibility of the name Moran, Sebastian..._

_... *anyway*. It's clear from your voice that you have no intention at all of making plans with any lovely young ladies or gentlemen. Which mollifies me._

_I make sure to hang up at the same time as you, and lie back in bed as I hear you running back up the stairs._

I can’t get back to you quickly enough. I’m relieved when I see you there, still lying in bed - what did I think, you were going to climb out the window the second I left the room?

Maybe...

I ignore this thought that makes my stomach lurch... throw off the gloves, flop back onto the bed next to you...

“Hungry?” I ask brightly.

You gaze up at me, and the next thing I know I’m leaning down to kiss you softly.

_"Hmmm... for what, exactly?" I ask. I didn't need to, really... it's clear from the pressure against my leg you are more than up for some early morning shenanigans. But the way you kiss me is - more than that. It's not hungry, or perfunctory, or eager - it's soft and sweet and somehow that makes my chest feel hot and liquid, and my stomach curl up._

_What *is* this??_

_*Oh come off it Jimmy.*_

_No - what??_

_*You know what it is. You've read it described in books, you've heard about it on TV, now you get to experience it first-hand. Congratulations.*_

_I'm sure I don't know what you -_

_*And they called it puppy love...*_

_Piss off!_

_*It comes to us all Jimmy.*_

_Not to me! I don't *love*. I'm a psychopath._

_*It's hardly love. Dopamine, norepinephrine, adrenaline - all for free! Feel-good chemicals released by the presence of a symmetrical face and good genes.*_

_But he's so sweet..._

_*There you go. Idealization of the subject. All textbook.*_

_Ugh. *Fine!* So I got a crush. Great. What does it matter?_

_*Oh, nothing. Except that teenage crushes tend to be obsessive. And you can't afford to be obsessed with anything except Georgie.*_

_I am *not!* And he's only here for a week!_

_*That's fine. So when the week is over, you'll forget all about him?*_

_..._

_*Jimmy?*_

_... yea. Of course. I mean - he'll be gone. I'll experience withdrawal - but that's just an extra spoonful of pain. Not really significant. It'll pass._

_Jeesus._

_Well, it explains the bodily malfunctions. All physical responses to chemicals introduced to the brain without conscious choice, unlike the opioids. I do wish I could control the release and suppression of all that stuff in my cerebrum... surely I should be in charge..._

_Maybe later._

_For now, I have a dopamine generator in my arms... and such a lovely one..._

_You pull back, smile, and the sun breaks through despite the blackout curtains._

_"Hey."_

_"Hey yourself..."_

God... the sight of you in the morning, sleepy eyes, tousled hair...

your body, so relaxed and warm...

Mmm...

Will you want to-?

“In answer to your question - whatever you’re hungry for, of course. I aim to please...” I purr. Lifting your hand, I keep my eyes locked on yours as I kiss it fervently.

_Kissing my hand, like a knight of yore... declaring his devotion to his king..._

_... were we in different circumstances, we could have ruled the world, Sebastian..._

_What am I hungry for? Well - I'm no stranger to morning wood... so why not make this the fourth time?_

_I'm still lazy though..._

_Well, you said you aimed to please..._

_How far does the devotion of my knight to his king go?_

_I stroke your face, look at your beautiful soft smile..._

_Tighten my hand in your hair, making you gasp, your eyes flash -_

_push you down - will you want to?_

Fuck... what is it about being manhandled by you...?

You just shoved my face in the direction of your cock, and I couldn’t be happier...

You’re already deliciously hard... and you hiss with pleasure when my lips slide over you...

It doesn’t take much to leave you groaning... gasping... moaning... shivering in ecstasy...

_The knight is certainly happy to pay lip service to his king..._

_Fuck fuck fuuuuuuckkkkk -_

_This is too good - I don't want it to end -_

_"Stop," I pant, pulling you off. You look genuinely upset - oh darling..._

_"I want to fuck you..." God I want to..._

When I feel your fingers tightening in my hair, I actually feel panic.

What did I do wrong? Stop?? Don’t you like it...?

But then-

Oh fuck-

“God...yes...” I pant. “Where do you want me?”

_You want this as much as me..._

_I want you always, everywhere - god, Sebastian - you are so overwhelmingly hot -_

_“On your knees, hold on to the headboard,” I point, grasping the lube and a condom, getting myself and you ready - your beautiful arse still stripy, with some bruises, *my* marks, no one is going to look at you and failing to notice that you’re *mine*, mine mine mine..._

_I lean over you, careful Jim - fuck you’re hot, fuck you’re amazing, fuck I love -_

_*No* I don’t. It’s chemicals. All chemicals._

_It happens to all teenagers - and there’s no reason it shouldn’t happen to psychopaths. You’re incapable of feeling the empathy and altruism that are part of love, but you’re not immune to the happy hormones that come with infatuation. It’s got nothing to do with Sebastian any more than that he is the right form and temperament to release those chemicals._

_*Such a great form and temperament...*_

_Just enjoy the ride Jimmy. This is all you’re going to get. Chemicals released to encourage pair bonding - but not *actual* pair bonding - that’s for normal people. *As is* letting your actions be influenced by these chemicals. It’s like with the smack - use it, enjoy it, but *keep it under control*._

_I am in charge._

I assume the position quickly. God - don’t need to look _quite_ so eager, Seb...

I hear the sound of foil tearing... condom unrolling... the squirting of lube...

And then I feel your fingers slick with lube... your breath on my back... and I shiver deliciously.

You’re quiet as you position yourself. What are you thinking? Do you want this as much as I do? Is that even possible?

My cock is swollen painfully hard against my abdomen...

My head drops down in between my shoulders as I feel you prodding and slowly pushing in...

Oh god... yes...

the first time my mind was so blown - first by the thrashing, then by being taken by you, that I could barely focus on what was happening...

Now it feels so intensely physical as you push into me, I have to focus very hard on not coming.

No, you will _not_ come yet, Seb...

I let out a long, low moan as you surge into me...

and again as you begin to move...

“Oh god,” I breathe. “So _fucking good_...”

_Yes, it is... it is so fucking good... you are so fucking good..._

_Don't ever leave, ok? Just - stay here forever... come with me to my junkie paradise, help me find Georgie, and we'll settle down somewhere nice and we'll raise him..._

_Because *of course* you dream of giving up your life of luxury to live in a squat with a fourteen and a twelve-year-old._

_Just *stop fucking thinking* Jim. Just - feel..._

_So... fucking... good..._

_And you're moaning your pleasure out and I wish this could last for *ever* but it's *too good* and I reach round - can I hold you from here? I can - oh good - oh fuck this is even hotter -_

_I *explode*..._

You start moving faster and harder, and I’m making so much noise, and then suddenly a hand grabs my cock, _FuckFuckFuckSoHot_ , holding it so firmly and possessively, and then -

You’re groaning so loudly, gasping, jerking against me - and my body decides enough is enough -

as you’re still shuddering against me, my muscles spasm violently and I come so hard, so good - a ragged shout tears out of my throat, and my head falls back, _oh god oh god so fucking hot_...

_You're not far behind - *fuckfuckfuck* you are hot - and so fucking *perfect* -_

_You roar your pleasure into the room and shudder around me, underneath me, and we are one, one creature, melted together, fused, into something far superior to the sum of its parts..._

_I hold you as we gasp for breath, your shrinking cock and your wide chest, as I lean on your warm back..._

You’re holding onto me... leaning against me...

and how this is just as beautiful and amazing as my orgasm??

I shiver at the feeling of your body against mine and pant, “Holy fuck...oh holy fuck...”

I grip the headboard as you pull out, and then slither down to the mattress.

“I think... you melted my brain...” I murmur, staring at you in a daze.

_"Oh, is that what that is..." I grin, nodding at the liquid on the headboard._

_I get rid of the condom, crawl close to you. I just want to be so close to you all the time... you are warm and feel good..._

_Your eyes shine down on me, still so sweet and soft, and I kiss your shoulder._

_"Wow."_

Your eyes are dark and glowing like embers...

Fuck. I can’t keep my head clear around you when you look at me like that...

“I fully agree - wow.” I shake my head, stunned. “So - unfortunately I do have to be back by evening for dinner...” I say ruefully. “But I’ll see you tonight at the Bunker... right?”

My fingers trail over the side of your torso and hip. “I know I’m not playing it cool... I just don’t want to waste any opportunity to see you again...”

_"Try to stop me..."_

_*Jimmy.*_

_Piss. Off._

_*Jimmy. You mustn't indulge like this.*_

_Why. Not._

_*Do I need to remind you that your mission in life is to get your brother back?*_

_It's just a few days! Just a paltry few days of being fucking *happy*! I haven't been fucking happy in *years*!_

_*And what right do you have to be happy, with your mother dead and your brother missing?*_

_..._

_*Exactly.*_

_... just a few days..._

_*It's just a few days here, and then it's a few days to recover, and then it's a few days to get more money, and then it's a few days when you're in love with the next guy, and-*_

_What - what next guy?? How- I don't fall in love! This is - a fluke! Because - because Sebastian-_

_*Yeah, right. It's all so boringly *predictable...* It's simple biology, Jimmy. Remember how you said you wouldn't get addicted to smack?*_

_I'm..._

_*Sure sure, you have it under control... as long as you take it regularly. Remember last time you didn't?_

_That's addiction, Jimmy. Don't get addicted to this guy too.*_

_He'll leave in a few days... I can't get addicted..._

_*Then won't it be better to end things now? God knows how far down the rabbit hole you'll be in a few days.*_

_No..._

_I get upset - feel tears coming - *tears!?* what the *fuck* - I don't *cry* - I'm *done* crying for the rest of my *fucking* life - I don't do *tears*, I don't do fucking *falling in love*, I don't do any of this -_

_"I - I shouldn't have come - I shouldn't have - fuck -"_

_I want to grab my stuff and run, but it's all spread over the room, so I scramble for it all, throw it in a plastic bag, grab my clothes, run out of the room, into the bathroom - quick - get dressed -_

_\- get out –_

You’re doing that Ricky thing - where you’re so deep in thought you seem barely aware that I’m in the room, and it looks like you’re trying to solve complex mathematical equations in your mind...

only I can’t tell if the answer is Seb or Not Seb.

I only know that something is going terribly wrong with the equation, _shit_ -

my heart flops in my chest when I see tears spring to your eyes -

And I can only stare in shock as you tear around the room collecting clothes and locking yourself in the bathroom.

What the fuck??

I jump out of bed and press against the door.

“Ricky?! Did I say too much?” I ask desperately.

Silence.

I’m going to be sick all over the Fitzsimonses’ lovely carpet if you leave like this...

“Ricky, please - if I’ve been too intense, I’m sorry, I’ll stop-“

I press my ear to the door, and hear the sound of clothing being thrown on.

Shit shit shit…

“What equation were you doing?” I ask urgently. “What if - what if you miscalculated and the answer is wrong??”

Oh brilliant, Moran. He already thinks you’re too bloody intense...

Now he’ll think you’ve lost your _fucking mind_...

_I'm wrestling with my jeans, my works, the needle has pierced through the bag, I need to cap it and put it away in my pen case, it'll get dirty -_

_I need to get out -_

_Your voice -_

_your voice comes through the door and you sound so desperate -_

_\- desperate - for me?_

_Well yeah - if this happened to me, it could have happened to you, too..._

_... quite likely, in fact, judging from the way you've been talking..._

_You're apologizing, no, Sebastian, it wasn't what you did -_

_What, it's not you it's me? Oh, classic, Jimmy..._

_But then -_

_\- equation? What? Miscalculated??_

_I don't *miscalculate...*_

_Jim._

_Calm down._

_Hold your breath - now breathe in deeply, and out._

_Icy spark in the centre of your brain._

_Expand._

_Ratio. Look at this *coolly and calmly*. Don't make any errors because of *emotions* and chemicals and stuff._

_You appear to have been struck by an infatuation. This is normal for a boy your age. You thought you were immune, being a psychopath, but you're not, which makes sense - there is nothing mutually exclusive about psychopathy and infatuation._

_So - what are you panicking about?_

_The intensity of the chemicals, I guess? I'm worried I'll lose control. Also worried I'll lose sight of my main mission - Georgie._

_The latter is the most important factor. So - how likely are you to lose sight of him?_

_*Never -*_

_So, you are considering the pros and cons of spending a few days with the boy you're in love with rather than staking out St Francis's? You don't stake out children's homes full-time. It's too risky. If too many homes get broken into in short succession, they'll up the alerts._

_I know..._

_So that's not it. So what is?_

_..._

_Jimmy? Look at this rationally. What is the problem?_

_Twofold: Guilt because I'm not supposed to be happy. Fear because the feelings are so strong and I don't know the effect they'll have on me._

_OK. First one: guilt. Good old Catholicism even affects its psychopaths._

_You know that’s nonsense, right? You suffering is not going to change one single aspect of what you did._

_I know..._

_Second: Fear. Assess the threat. What’s the worst that could happen?_

_I hurt a lot when he’s gone._

_Well, you hurt a lot anyway. And – would you not hurt if you left now?_

_I would._

_Significantly less?_

_I don’t know._

_Then the other side: what are the benefits?_

_Sebastian…_

_*Logic*, Jimmy. Stop mooning over the sexy boy for a moment._

_OK. Benefits – I get to feel – happiness, I guess? For a bit. And good sex._

_I – get to experience a little bit of what it is to be a normal teenager. I’ve never been a normal child… this is… a rare opportunity._

_So – do the benefits outweigh the disbenefits?_

_I – yes, I think so._

_Right. Then stop acting irrational and open the door and talk to Sebastian. You’ll want him to remain happy and stay with you throughout this week, and you’re not doing that by acting like a twat._

_I sigh, breathe, open the door, half dressed._

_“I’m sorry. I was – scared.”_

God, please say something -

Tell me I’m too much, tell me to leave you alone, just _say something!!_

Before I completely lose my shit, and _really_ show you how off the deep end I can go - when I start pounding on the door and shouting your name, you’ll see just how extreme my feelings are and you’ll never want to see me again -

So please - say anything!!

I’m trying so desperately to stay silent - to control my heart rate and breathing - to tell myself it’s _fine_ , it was just a summer fling anyway...

Only it’s _not_ fine, and it’s _not_ just a fling...

Oh Jesus, oh Christ, Seb!! What are you doing!!

Maybe _I_ should take advantage of this opportunity to gather my clothes and get the hell out... before I fuck up my mind any more...

I look behind me and take a quiet step towards my jeans lying crumpled on the floor. Then I hear a _click_ and I turn around, heart pounding.

You’re not - running away? Thank god...

“No, _I’m_ sorry - I was coming on too strong...” I shake my head. “I mean... I’m only here this week! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing... I just know I like you...” I run my hand through my hair. “C’mon... I’ll cook you breakfast. And I promise I won’t propose to you over hash browns...” I say wryly.

_"No - no, it's not your fault. It's not - you're not coming on too strong..._

_I - I do like you too. A lot. That's what - that's what scared me. I can't - really afford to fall in love."_


	8. After the Fall

My heart flops again...

and then somersaults.

And then does a bloody Olympic gymnastics routine...

Did you say - ?

No no no -

Stop it, Seb!

Stop it, Ricky!! If you go floating words like that by me, I won’t be able to _pretend_ this is just for fun, anymore...

“Well, that - makes two of us...” I say slowly.

You just look at me.

“Two _fucking morons_...” I mutter.

And then I react with horror as a smile spreads _across my face._

I cover my mouth and look away quickly. “Is there any chance - you didn’t see that?” I ask, cringing.

_Oh god..._

_no doubt now that you got it too... you couldn't look more pleased..._

_Why, Sebastian? What do you get out of this??_

_I walk to the bed, let myself fall down onto it with a sigh._

_"Fucking hell..."_

_I look up at you. "Jesus - this is *fucking* heavy stuff. Makes smack look positively innocent..." I try a wry smile - a joke, right? This is - fine, right?_

_We're just two guys. Just two guys trying to make sense of this - thing -_

_"I've never - experienced this before. Have you?"_

Pain flashes through me, a white-hot flare that burns through my gut and my heart. I suppress a gasp and close my eyes briefly. “Once. A couple of years ago...”

You’re staring at me. Closely. Intently.

God... I don’t have to talk about it, do I??

“He’s the one who-” I feel my chest grow so tight, I can barely breathe.

“Died,” I say, and it doesn’t even sound like my voice. I swallow hard, and it feels like the lump in my throat is made of razor blades.

I sit heavily on a chair, not trusting myself to remain standing any longer. And wouldn’t that make a great impression if I fell to my knees?

“And honestly, it fucked me up. So I can’t afford to fall in love either... not if I’m just going to lose-“ (you) “someone again...”

I sigh and cover my face. “So can we just - not do anything stupid? Any more than whatever ‘this’ is-“ I wave my hand half-heartedly. “God... we _are_ stupid, aren’t we...”

_Oh fuck-_

_Oh of course -_

_*Stupid* Jimmy - his love - shit -_

_And - jealousy? *Really*, Jim??_

_Well I never had this with anyone before and he did and now he’s broken -_

_Except he’s not. He’s blatantly in love with you. Even though he doesn’t want to be._

_“I’m sorry. I - didn’t mean - I realized yesterday that that was what he must have been._

_So - this isn’t easy for either of us. And you don’t have experience with ‘summer flings’ either._

_Fuck, it never looks like this in the films. Just a laugh, a kiss, a fuck, a walk in the sunset, a few tears when splitting, usually by the girl, all done._

_This feels –_

_overwhelming.”_

_Do normal people feel less intensely? But *I* am supposed to be the one who feels less intensely, aren’t I? But surely everyone can’t feel like this??_

I shake my head helplessly, glad to be talking about something other than the First Time.

 _Anything_ is better than that... god, I’d rather talk to you about the history of the peerage and what it means to be a Lord... that would go over well, I’m sure. I’ll just use my posh voice and lecture you on the responsibilities of the lower classes to hold up their part of the social contract, like Daddy likes to rant about.

“Yeah, summer flings are supposed to be all fun and frolic, aren’t they?” I roll my eyes. “Figures I would get it wrong... look, just - tell me if I’m getting too intense, tell me I’m an utter twat, and I’ll give you whatever space you need. I’m not the best at self-control you may have noticed...” I rub my eyes.

Fuck, I hope I haven’t ruined this - whatever ‘this’ is, and what it’s _not_ supposed to be.

“But I hope we can still see each other this week?” I murmur, hoping you can’t hear the pounding of my heart.

_Oh Sebbie..._

_"That's not it. It's not you being too intense, it's me -_

_I'm not used to - well - feelings, really. I just - I thought I'd have some fun with you, have some good sex -"_

_oh *fucccckkk*, the sex..._

_"... and you're just - you're into everything I want and you respond so fucking wonderfully and fuck, I've never had sex so - anything near like -"_

_oh god he's going to think it's all about the sex -_

_"- but it's not just the sex, it's - you're just -"_

_Fucking hell Jimmy. Words not your friend today?_

_"You're just too perfect! It's your fault!"_

_... yeah. Smooth._

I nearly sag with relief when you don’t run from the room - or agree that I’m a bit much, and how about you back the fuck off Sebastian?

(Seriously, Sebastian.)

But then I’m listening to you talk about me, and I feel like a starving man being led to a home-cooked meal after subsisting on stale bread and water for _years_...

It’s not just about sex?

I’m what??

“My _fault?”_ I repeat in a daze. “Ricky... I’m so far from perfect, it can’t be measured. Nobody thinks I’m _perfect_ at anything except people who just want some idiot to party with - or an easy fuck...”

_I growl at that - literally growl._

_"Idiots. You're worth twenty of them - you've got this fire inside you; everyone else just - vegetates. Just flatlining through life, doing what mummy and daddy say, what society says, what the boss says, what the doctor says, and then you're dead. But you - you attack, you snarl, you lash out, you *shine*. You go out searching for the edges and then go see what's beyond. You're fearless, wild, *beautiful*. You're a tiger in a world that wants sheep." I can feel my eyes glowing._

Did you just _growl_ at people thinking poorly of me??

If your previous comments were a home-cooked meal, this is a veritable feast. In a great hall. With servants and jugglers and dancing dogs.

I feel myself glowing as you speak - even as I’m shouting at myself inside my mind not to take it too seriously -

don’t let yourself -

don’t let yourself _fall_ -

You’re saying everything I’ve ever thought in my own mind about the world...

But I had too many people telling me there was something wrong with me, fundamentally wrong, _terribly_ wrong, to believe anything good about myself.

You on the other hand... you - see through _everything_.

Them.

And me.

A _tiger_.

I find myself ignoring my own shouting... striding across the room... crawling across the bed... and kissing you.

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from...” I murmur. “But you’re going to make it impossible to not be a complete, reckless fool for you... aren’t you...”

I kiss you again, and sigh against your sweet, warm lips.

_Fuck - yes..._

_You're so beautiful, so warm, so sweet, so *big*, holding me in your arms, my strong hot tiger... how could anyone ever resist you? Surely it's impossible... I'm just a mere human after all..._

_even I am..._

_Your soft lips against mine, your hand on my temple, stroking my hair, like no one ever has, looking at me with such - tenderness... like I'm the most precious thing on this planet, something to be admired and respected, and at the same time cherished and protected..._

_I want you to look at me like that *always*, and I don't even want to think about how I'm looking at you, I must look like a besotted fool, but so do you, and oh god how did we turn into two besotted fools overnight? What was in the Fitzsimonses' whiskey??_

_"I'm the fool... I should have known better... stay away from mad dogs and Englishmen..." I grin feebly._

Oh shit... how did I end up back here? I think dreamily as I kiss you. I thought we were in agreement about not getting too carried away...

Good work, Moran...

“That does seem like a good rule to follow...” I grin back. “You’d do well to avoid the lot of us... but I’d still like to suggest breakfast as a relatively safe activity. All you have to do is sit there looking beautiful and eating my gourmet fare...” I wink at you, trying to dispel the angst that has been building between us...

Maybe leaving the bedroom will feel less intense for both of us...

_Breakfast?_

_I don’t want to leave this embrace... sit in a kitchen not holding you... in harsh daylight with physical distance..._

_Food is the furthest thing from my mind. I want to remain here, outside the world, in the soft twilight._

_Breakfast means leaving our cave, means you getting ready to leave, and I don’t want you to... I want the hours between you leaving and seeing you again to be as few as possible._

_I don’t reply, don’t move, just curl slightly closer against you._

Breakfast appears to be extremely low on your list of concerns...

Your face, full of longing... your body drawing closer to me...

I pull you even closer, my heart lighting up as you let out a tiny sigh.

“Well... breakfast isn’t going anywhere...” I murmur, and kiss your forehead.

_No, and neither should you..._

_Fucking hell Jimmy, what's happening?_

_I feel so - *vulnerable* - so dependent -_

_I don't want to -_

_Again I'm tempted to run, but I can't run from these feelings, only from you - and the feelings would be worse without you..._

_I'm trapped, in the most delicious trap ever... and I never want to leave._

_*Seriously* brain-addled..._

_"My brain's not working properly," I complain. "I can't seem to think rationally."_

_I don't know what I want you to do with that information - maybe reassure me that it's normal? That you have it too?_

_But my brain doesn't work like other people's..._

You seem distressed...

god, _please don’t run again_. My heart nearly fell out of my chest earlier.

But then you’ve never had this experience before, and I _have_. Should I be guiding you through it?

Oh yeah... you’re the perfect ‘guide’, Moran...

You pushed your boyfriend into putting aside his well-founded fears... and now he’s _dead_ -

And then you were put into an _institution_ -

And you’ve felt suicidal ever since -

Jesus _Christ_ … this is exactly why you weren’t supposed to get involved again remember?? What if you’re _cursed??_

Even though you don’t believe in any spiritual bullshit... what if -??

My chest grows tight. Just don’t encourage him, no matter how much that sucks for you, I think, filling with dread. I steel myself.

“In my experience... rational thought doesn’t usually accompany romantic feelings. Quite the opposite,” I say helplessly.

There - I did the right thing and told you the truth.

Well - a part-truth. I didn’t tell you Love can fuck you up completely and destroy your life. Maybe I’ll leave that for the second date.

I close my eyes, and pulling your head against my chest, I sigh.

“It’s just for this week - let’s try to hold onto that...” I murmur, pushing aside the fear rising in my chest.

_You're tensing up -_

_of course - it's all new for me, but it's not for you - and all the memories you have of it are painful._

_Fucking fucked up lot we are..._

_Yes. Just for this week._

_Which is the most terrifying thing I've ever heard._

_You're going to *disappear*..._

_How am I going to get back to the bleak life I live?_

_I dig my head in your chest. I want to disappear inside you..._

Oh shit... did I just make it worse??

Or better in the long run?

I place my hands on your head, stroking your hair.

“Hey...” I whisper.

You pull back and look at me, afraid.

“If there were any way I could make it easier on you, I would take on the pain so you wouldn’t have to... so if you ever feel like this is too much for you - you don’t worry about my feelings,” I say, and stare at you intently. “Got it?”

My heart pounds painfully in my chest.

What did I just do...?

_Seb -_

_Sebastian..._

_How can you be so *sweet*??_

_I don't *deserve* you being so sweet! You don't know what I'm like - you don't even know my name!_

_I'm a devious, deceitful, manipulative junkie and murderer... and you have no idea and you just lay your heart open for me to trample on... somehow seeing my pain and offering to take it on, with your own great big damaged hurt heart..._

_Sebastian - you fucking angel from heaven, you bloody saint, the fucking church was right, I am not worthy..._

_Pain rises up - no - no no no no, we don't do pain, quick, shove it away - where is that fucking bunker, isn't it ready yet??_

_It rises through my gut, fills my stomach, clenches my oesophagus, narrows my throat - and a small *whine* escapes - no -_

_oh god no –_

I watch a flicker of emotion cross your face- and then another and _another_. I sense something intense building in you, and I watch with bewildered concern...

Are you - _crying?_

Jesus, what did I do wrong??

I feel a wave of frustration move through me. I don’t handle emotions very well - ever since - and even before, I remember a few complaints- but how the fuck am I supposed to know what to do??

Calm the fuck down Seb, you _arsehole_... you just told him his feelings come first, and now you want to bail?

Of course not-

Then - fucking - _ask_.

“Did I - say something wrong?” I ask softly.

_Oh fuck no don't ask -_

_Not you not you not you -_

_"No - you're just -"_

_Oh god tears - no -_

_There's a massive weight hanging by a silk thread right above me and I can do one of two things -_

_I can shut everything down - even though the bunker isn't ready yet, I can retract into a part of me that doesn't feel anything -_

_\- but it is so hard and it's so heavy and cold -_

_\- or I can break down like I haven't in -_

_\- never since -_

_mam died_

_\- and possibly chase you away -_

_\- but you *said* you'd take my *pain* if you could -_

_\- people *say* things Jimmy - they don't *mean* them - especially not if they don't know - what you *are* -_

_\- but I think I can *trust* -_

_\- you can't trust *anyone* -_

_\- but I'll *explode* -_

_I look up -_

_\- see the eyes, the big, green, caring, sweet, trusting eyes -_

_No one's looked at me like that -_

_\- since -_

_Oh *god* -_

_"S-Sebastian?"_

_my voice quivers, trembles -_

_You look at me._

_"it -_

_It's Jim."_

_And the dam bursts._

OhNoOH _NO_...

Disaster has struck.

Three options now, soldier...

one - mumble an excuse and leave.

Two - go numb, fake some soothing sounds, and just wait it out. He can’t cry forever!

Three - do for him what you couldn’t do for David... let him feel what he feels and don’t you _fucking try to fix him_.

One and two make me go cold...

Three it is... deploy supportive gestures and hope it fucking helps.

“Hey, it’s okay...” I murmur. “It’s ok, I’m here...”

I hold you as you weep, great heaving sobs that make your body shake.

Wait- did you say a different name??

“I’m right here... Jim,” I whisper into your hair.

_It's not OK. It's so not OK._

_But you're there._

_And you're there for - Jim -_

_Hearing my name from your lips - touches *so deep* -_

_And I can't stop, I weep, I weep, and I can never stop -_

_I haven’t felt like this since -_

_My Mam, my poor Mam, my sweet Mam, who used to hold me, and tell me that it was OK, that she was there -_

_*Mam* -_

_And she can't hold me ever again, because she's dead, and it's *my* fault, *I* killed her; and I *had* to, she was doing to Georgie what she had been doing to me, and it was *wrong*, Mam, it was evil, because I was *not* a man, Mam, I was just a little boy, and Georgie was even littler, but I *love you* Mam and you're gone *forever* and it's *my fault* and now I can't find Georgie and I love him and he's all alone and he needs me and I said I'd always take care of him and I *let him down*, took away his Mam and his brother and he's lost and alone and I can't *find him*..._

I don’t know how much time has passed - it doesn’t occur to me to look at a clock.

But you go through several cycles of sobbing so hard you’re hyperventilating (where I’m in a state of abject panic, and can barely breathe myself)...

tears slowing down (where I attempt to breathe normally again and hope you synch up with me)...

Whimpering, with breath coming out like hiccups (where I whisper reassuring nonsense, and just keep telling myself to stroke your hair, your face, your back... slowly and rhythmically, which helps calm me down too...)

After three cycles, I‘m exhausted - but the sobbing doesn’t start up again.

What happens now??

I’m afraid to speak...

Am I supposed to say something??

“Jim...” I murmur.

 _My Jim_... I kiss your hair.

_Mam -_

_Lying there, with all the blood, *so much blood*, and so still -_

_\- and it must *stop*, no, it must *stop*, it's a *dream*, it isn't *real*, Mam, *Mam* -_

_*come BACK*_

_\- I'd give *anything* -_

_\- *NOOOOOOOOOO* -_

_\- no *do something* - Jim *do something* you're a genius make it *stop* -_

_Georgie -_

_Georgie's face -_

_Georgie screaming for Mam to come because they're taking Jimmy away -_

_The last time I saw him. The last time he saw me - covered in Mam's blood -_

_The months spent desperately searching for him, with the constant fear -_

_\- fear I can't think about, no Jimmy, *NO* -_

_\- the fear that he'll turn away from me in disgust –_

_hatred –_

_hurt -_

_I am vaguely aware of something around me, protecting me, holding me safe in a space which is letting me cry, cradling me as I tremble, as I melt away, as the wafer-thin veneer I had holding everything together - just cracked - and everything floods out, everything that's been held so tightly bundled up for two years, with the generous aid of our Lady of Heroin, but even she's thrown up her hands, there's no way she can stem the tidal wave..._

_A voice breaks through -_

_an important voice - soft, croaky, masculine, sweet -_

_"Jim."_

_Jim -_

_oh god -_

_Sebastian._

_You said - oh god Sebastian._

_You were *so sweet* - and no one's been sweet to me since -_

_-Mam-_

_Oh god..._

_Calm down Jimmy - try to -_

_\- breathe -_

_\- just breathe –_

Oh god... breathing growing erratic again...

more tears?

No - but struggling... in distress...

Fuck-

What do I do??

I take deep breaths, hold you against my chest so you can feel the rhythm -

But honestly - if you need to fall apart -

I’ll still be here.

I can’t even _imagine_ entertaining option 1 or 2 now...

Looking at your sweet face, your eyes so full of fear and pain...

all I want to do is be here for you.

“You’re safe, Jim...” I whisper. “You’re safe here...”

_Safe... I haven't been safe in so long..._

_but I am... I know I am, in this dark place, in this bubble, with you..._

_Slowly my sobs subside, I rise up from the deep black tar pit to resurface in this reality..._

_What happened? Where the fuck did all that come from??_

_I - never cried like that - why now?_

_Seb - do you think it's because of you??_

_I open my eyes, with difficulty - they're swollen and painful. Look into your eyes, concerned, soothing._

_"I - I am so sorry. I don't know where that came from," I croak._

“God, don’t be sorry on my account! Obviously it needed to come out...” I reach over you to grab a box of tissues, and do my best to wipe the tears from your face. “Honestly, I’m just relieved I didn’t do anything wrong... I can inspire strong reactions in people sometimes...” I say, rolling my eyes. “I usually just assume that I’m inadvertently being a dick, and they’re better off if I leave. But that’s the last thing I want to do with you...” I say fervently. “So please tell me if I am...”

_"No - you're not - you're not being a dick. I really don't know -_

_It was just - you being *so sweet* -"_

_No don't you start again Moriarty -_

_I heave a deep, shuddering sigh._

_"That'll teach you - don't be sweet to me. I can't take it."_

_I reach for the can on the bedside table, drink some of the stale beer._

_"You must think I'm crazy..."_

For a second you seem to be teetering towards crying again.

You think I’m sweet? Oh, thank Christ...

“Jesus... if you’re crazy, so am I. Psychiatrists thought so... they just scribbled some fancy diagnoses in my file. As if fucked-up circumstances are supposed to do anything other than fuck you up worse? Like you’re supposed to crawl on your hands and knees over the flaming ruins of your life just to be seen as normal?? Well, _fuck_ normal,” I say defiantly. “Fuck _everyone_ who makes you think there’s something wrong with you. I’d _rather_ be crazy than one of them. And I think you would too...”

I look at you - the can is still in your hand but you’re not moving...

“Am I wrong?”

_Psychiatrists?_

_"What - diagnoses?"_

_And - what happened to send you to psychiatrists?_

_Though - for someone like Lord Moran, a son who doesn't do as he's told is probably just cause for psychiatric treatment..._

I sigh heavily. “God... every one I saw gave me a different label. Clinical depression. Oppositional defiant disorder... borderline personality disorder... even borderline sociopathy...” I think for a moment, then smile at you slyly. “Want to know why no one could agree?”

You nod, your eyes widening.

“I was messing with them...” I said with slow satisfaction. “They didn’t care about me or my feelings. They just wanted to check off boxes, and give themselves gold stars for fixing me. So I gave them a fucked-up psyche to salivate over... but I divulged different information to different doctors. Apparently it caused a lot of confusion. It was my little pet project that kept me from killing myself, to be honest. By the time they realized what I was doing, I was starting to feel a bit more like myself again. It got me labelled a borderline sociopath, though...” I snigger, and pluck the bottle of whisky from the bedside table. “So what my actual diagnoses are, I have no idea... once I met the psychiatrists, I didn’t care enough about their opinions to bother with honesty...”

I take a swig of whisky. “So - now do you think _I’m_ crazy?” I grin at you cockily.

_I grin at your toying with the psychiatrists._

_Of course they don't care - but I love how you made it into a game. I should have done that..._

_"Sociopath; of course - what sociopath would hold his-" his what? What am I to you? fuckbuddy? random stranger? "- date like that - saying he'd *take his pain* if he could -"_

_no crying Jimmy!_

_"You're the furthest thing from a sociopath I've met in years... but - yeah, well done for messing with them._

_I just - I didn't say anything. Got me the label psychopath."_

_Well, that and the rest. But I'm not going into that._

_"Nicely compatible diagnoses - shouldn't we be beating each other up instead of cuddling? Oh wait - we kind of did... that's alright then. Satisfied our psychiatrists, now we can snuggle."_

_I smile, because I'm joking, but I'm also keeping a close eye on you - you're not shocked by the psychopath diagnosis are you, Mr Sociopath?_

You seem tickled by my head games with my psychiatric team - which is a relief. Not that I thought you’d judge - but it’s not the kind of thing I talk about. Ever. You already know things about me people who’ve known me for years would never guess...

So you don’t think I’m a sociopath.

And - really? That’s quite a diagnosis you were saddled with, yourself...

Huh - good thing I don’t give credence to what psychiatrists think.

“They are rather compatible, aren’t they...” I chuckle. “And it’s sweet that you think I’m such a lacklustre sociopath... but then, I _like_ you. If I thought you were a right cunt, it would be a different story...” I wink, enjoying our banter. “But I’m always down for a good snuggle, darlin’...”

_I felt so heavy a mere ten minutes ago; and now I'm smiling and chatting - and somehow I *do* feel lighter after that bout of crying - like some of the dark lead inside me has dissolved into the tears._

_I reach for the whiskey bottle, you hand it to me, I take a swig. Better than the stale beer - it burns down and dulls some of the sharp edges._

_"Oh really? So what would you do if you thought I *were a right cunt*?" I ask, in my best London accent._

I laugh out loud. “Oh, I don’t know -“ I snatch the bottle out of your hand, and pour some whisky down my throat. “I suppose if we’d been in the club and you were getting on my bad side - I might get in your face a little -“ I push your shoulder, and move closer. “Perhaps call you an utter gobshite...” I say in a soft growl. “And maybe even insinuate that you were too chicken to go head-to-head. But not the good kind of head-to-head...” I purr, and kiss your neck.

_"Oh really? You think you can take me, ya big sod?" I laugh, pushing you in the chest, seeing you look at me, eyes gleaming._

I stifle the wild laughter that’s about to bubble over.

Really? You want to do this? Or are you just playing - either way, it’s a dangerous little game...

One that I would never walk away from.

“Mmm... I think you’re a savage fighter and you’d happily make me bleed...” I say with a throaty chuckle. “Doesn’t mean you’d win though, sweetheart...”

_"Oh, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't - I've seen you fight... but you might be in for a surprise or two, *sweetheart*," I smile, then launch myself at you, try to get my hand on your throat, but you're too fast, saw this coming, push me aside, back onto the bed. I bounce up, jump off the bed._

_"Come on then..." I smirk._

I rise from the bed, grinning madly.

“Oh, _really_...” I purr softly. “I like a good surprise...”

Hmm... this just got very interesting...

What to do, what to do...

I stalk towards you, moving around the bed like a prowling jungle cat.

“You want this?” I say in a velvety soft voice. “Because it’s coming at you, Jim...”

I watch you carefully as I move closer... and closer... and I lunge to grab your arms and immobilize you - but oh, you’re _slippery_ –

_*Jim.*_

_You didn't even question, didn't interpret it as 'it's Jim who got me into this mess', you just *knew* -_

_And then you are approaching me, stalking like a tiger - I knew it -_

_But I can read the way you move, the way you shift your weight, the way your eyes flit - I know where you are going to grip and I am already halfway out of the hold before it's truly manifested, and then I am *behind* you and I manage to grab that throat I was after originally, pushing into your knees, making you come down - *yes* - but you're fast, and you twist and you're out of my grip and still standing._

_We're circling each other, electricity buzzing between us, both sets of eyes glimmering._

Ohh, you are _crafty_...

alright, my first attempt was thwarted...

I’m a natural when it comes to fighting, but I don’t want this to be over _too_ quickly...

feint with my arms as if to grab you, and then - kick out your leg as you move away -

As you go to regain your balance, I quickly wrap my arm around your throat and lean over your shoulder, holding you in place.

“Going somewhere?” I murmur.

_You’re fast - and you don’t make the mistake many do of underestimating me._

_But I’m not done yet, tiger..._

_I pull to the front, then twist round, hook my leg behind yours, and push back, so you’re off-balance, then drop free of your grasp._

_I manage to get a quick kick against your leg in before jumping out of reach._

“Oh, well done, you...” I flash a grin at you. Then I leap after you - you try to evade me, but I’m getting a grasp of your style. I pull you down so we fall to the floor- shielding you with my body, then twisting you underneath me. I push your wrists down against the carpet.

“Best first date _ever_ ,” I say, smiling fiercely.

_Oh really? You like this, do you?_

_"Now what?" I grin at you. You look wary - wise, Sebastian..._

“I don’t know... are we done?” I smirk. My hands squeeze your wrists.

_"We appear to be at an impasse... you may be sitting on me, but neither of us can do a lot in this position... not much fun, is it?"_

_I curve my pelvis up - yes, that worked in distracting you. Too easy, Sebastian..._

_I shift my leg to trap your foot, then roll to the side, making you need to move an arm to maintain your balance - and I'm out from under you, up in a flash, and then I'm on your back, my legs round your waist, my arm around your neck._

_"Going somewhere?" I echo._

A few quick moves and you’ve neutralized me - for the moment.

God... I really am that predictable, am I?

Of course I am...

“I had a feeling you’d fight dirty,” I purr. “Now I’m your prisoner again! Unhand me, you brute!”

_"Never," I grin._

_I really want to fight more. I know I can't win, but I need to unleash – something. After all that._

_The good thing is that I know you can hold your own, but I still need to watch what I do - I don't want to fight too dirty and hurt you. But you are quick and strong enough to ward off most normal attacks, and it still allows me to lash out._

_I release you, move around you, get a few jabs in at your ribs before you parry with your arms and lunge for me. I only just manage to evade by jumping behind a chair._

I move forward towards you, grab the chair, and throw it away from me - harder than I planned. I watch as it sails through the air and slams against the wall - it bounces off, then against the floor. I look from the dented wall towards you.

“Oh shit...” I say, stunned - and then burst out laughing.

_"Se*bas*tian!" I exclaim, shocked. "We were only going to have some of their whiskey - not wreck the place! You - rock star..."_

_You're laughing though, so distracted, so I can get a decent punch into your stomach._

I’m still laughing when you land a blow to my stomach. I stumble backwards, trying to catch my breath. Then I trip over the chair, and find myself landing on the floor in a daze. When I look up to see the exasperated look on your face, I start laughing again - then wince as I hold my stomach.

“Ouch,” I say good-naturedly. “Good one...”

Then I lunge forward on my hands and knees, clap my hands around your calf as you try to get away, and pull. Your leg gives out and you fall to the ground. By the time you realize what’s happened, I turn you around so you’re kneeling with your arms behind your back and your cheek pressed to the floor.

“Sorry about the wall,” I say, panting. “I get carried away sometimes...”

Then I pull you up and haul you onto my lap, holding your arms tightly.

“What are you gonna do it about it?” I taunt.

I sense you wanting to unleash - I don’t want to be patronizing, but hopefully you can tell I’m ok with it if you hurt me.

 _I can take it_ , I say silently in my mind as I look at you expectantly.

_Your eyes are gleaming - you're really enjoying the scrap. And the way you're holding me - showing me you can restrain me, if need be - so I can continue if I want._

_And that irritates me - I'm not for you to *indulge* Sebastian -_

_\- so I dash my head back against your face, not hard enough to break your nose, but you're going to have to explain to mummy dearest how you ran into a door..._

_Your grip loosens, and I'm out again, facing you._

I groan. Fuck, that really did hurt.

“Little fucker...” I mutter, gingerly touching the bridge of my nose. I wince then stand slowly, flashing a feral smile at you.

“I’m _so_ going to hear about that tonight... think that’s funny, do you?”

You scramble away from me, but I catch you - I don’t want to hit your face, so I punch you in the ribs twice, and push you sharply so you fall against the bed.

“Ready for a nap?” I ask, all innocence before my smirk breaks free.

_Come a little closer, darling..._

_That's it..._

_I can use the bed to push myself off against and get a good kick to the side of your knee._

_I'm aware of my ribs aching, but I've never been very distracted by physical pain._

_You move to the side; I get back to my feet, try to get a punch in, but you're parrying fast - it still feels good to just *punch* - you're letting the occasional one through and I'm suspecting that you're *letting* me, which should infuriate me, but I do realize that if you wanted to, you could knock me out cold in seconds, so to an extent all of this is you letting me blow off steam…_

The fighting continues... When you land a punch to my cheekbone, for a brief moment I feel a bright flare of aggression, because now my face is going to be a mess for tonight, and I throw a punch to your jaw.

I’m about to stop and apologize and make sure you’re ok when I realize that is _not_ what you want, so instead I throw you back onto the bed so you can have a moment to breathe and assess your jaw if needed - and so _I_ can regroup and not get any more blows to the face...

“God...” I pant. “I’m sure to make an impression tonight now... Thank you for the conversation starter!” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I give you a playful smile, and prod my cheekbone carefully. My fingers come away dry, so at least you didn’t leave a cut - but I can already feel the swelling and the beginnings of a bruise forming... great.

_Whoops._

_I still feel like unleashing but maybe Sebastian isn’t the best target. I don’t want him banned from coming out tonight._

_I hold up my hands and you look at me suspiciously, then worried. “Is your jaw alright?”_

_“Yes -“ I assure you - aw, look at you, all concerned about me... “I’m fine - but you’re right, we mustn’t mess you up and worry your mum - let’s see if the Fitzsimonses have anything in their freezer...”_

_I find a sack of frozen peas that you put against your face._

_“Sorry - got a bit carried away there...”_

“S’fine,” I assure you, pressing the package of peas against my cheek and over my nose. “I’ve been way more messed up when I’m away at school. This just happens to be a significant week for my mum, and I don’t want to -“ I sigh heavily. “Fuck. I’m going to disappoint her one way or another. I think on some level she must be aware that I will _never_ live up to my father’s expectations, because I _don’t give a shit_ about him... this seems like a last-ditch effort to get him off our backs, I guess. But she didn’t really think it through... I can fake it well enough, but this is for an extended period of time... and when things go wrong, they go truly wrong...” I roll my eyes.

_I'm things going wrong now?_

_Yeah, I guess I am..._

_"What is she hoping will happen this week?"_

Oh, fuck... there’s no way I can talk about this without it becoming perfectly clear just how well-to-do my family is. Although I’ve let a couple of other things slip, like being away at school... still, there’s a world of difference between being regular posh and actually aristocratic...

“Ehm... making good connections with well-born families,” I say carefully. “Seeing as I’ve burnt several bridges back home...”

_I chuckle. "Ha! Made too much of a name for yourself in England, so now they're scouring the dregs of the Irish aristocracy for a good girl to marry you off to?"_

Oh... shit...

you guessed??

“How did you- how??” I ask, horrified.

_What?? "How did I what??"_

“Guess?” I ask, cringing inwardly.

But you knew and you didn’t leave in disgust, which is a bit surprising...

_"Guess - what?" I ask. "It's quite obvious from the way you talk that you're upper class. I know you try to make yourself sound lower-class than you actually are, but when you're carried away it goes up. So, you're upper class, and you're here with your parents and they want you to come along to family commitments in a last effort to, like you said, 'make connections with people'. Why is that so important to them? Well - if you were an heir, it would be. So - it seemed to kind of make sense._

_Sorry - it's obviously a sore subject. But - you don't have to look at me like that. I'll not hold it against you._

_Like Nessie says, you can't taste it."_

I listen to you, stunned. I had no idea I was so... _obvious_.

Fuck!!

“Nessie?” I ask, bewildered. “What does the Loch Ness monster have to do with it?”

Is this Irish slang I’m not familiar with? You’re not taking the piss, are you??

_Ah yes. Of course I'm not supposed to have talked with the girl that was rubbing herself all over you in the Bunker._

_"A friend of mine. Full name Vanessa, but we call her Nessie. She always says you can't taste if a guy is a - a thief, or a wanker, or a toff, or whatever - it's her way of saying she doesn't care; as long as he's hot, she'll shag him._

_Not that I mean that I don't care what you are - I mean - I don't just like you because you're hot -"_

_Shit Jimmy - keep that mouth in check._

_"What I mean is, I don't care if you're the Prince of Wales or whatever. You're just - Sebastian. Anything that your family is doesn't reflect on you._

_I mean, *my* dad is a thief, a drunkard, and a drug-dealer. Hope you won't hold that against me. We don't choose our family..."_

I feel the tension that’s gripping my chest like a monstrous hand begin to loosen its claws...

“I had the feeling you - wouldn’t like it,” I say quietly. “But you’re quite right... I wouldn’t have chosen mine...”

_"Really? What gave you that idea? The fact that I fell for you despite your outrageous accent and expensive clothes?"_

_You look down at your naked form._

_"OK," I grin, "you *do* look better out of them... but then that might have caused some uproar, in the middle of the day at the shops. You'll have to work harder if you want to disguise your poshness... wear scuffed DMs, by all means, but don't wear them with Levis. Punk clothes is a good choice - but wearing different, clean ones every day indicates you have the money to have lots of outfits. That leather jacket is top quality, and you bought it new from World's End. I'm afraid centuries of inbreeding have given you that blond, robust, rugged handsome look that the best-looking posh people get. And well - your accent is the biggest giveaway. Work on it - and practice with *proper* low-class Londoners, not what Eton brats think low-class Londoners sound like."_

_I see you wince._

_"Oh - Eton brat, are you? That explains the language skills..."_

“Fuck me...” I mutter. “And here I am, thinking people can’t tell...”

I rake my hand through my hair, feeling self-conscious.

“Well, thank you, Professor-“ I laugh, trying to shrug it off. “You’re like the anti-Pygmalion. There should be a film made about it -“ I grin, despite myself. “What do you think for a title - ‘My Fair Lord’...?”

_"Should be the opposite really, so - My Foul Larcenist?" I laugh. "But don't worry - most people don't look beyond the first glance. They see the boots, leather jacket, and you're classed as punk trash without a further thought. And people here just hear the accent and go - London punk, worst of the worst, stay clear. It's just your evil geniuses that you need to watch out for..."_

“Oh if an evil genius crosses my path, I won’t take my eyes off him - believe me...” I purr.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve thrown the peas on the counter, slunk towards you, and kissed your lips.

Everything that’s transpired since we’ve woken up - I’m actually feeling close to you. Like I _never_ thought I’d get the chance to...

And you’re so clever and _sweet_ and _funny_...

I stare at you fondly, and you gaze back at me.

“My Foul Larcenist?” I murmur, stroking your cheek.

You nod, your eyes gleaming.

I throw my head back and laugh. “I’m happy to be your larcenist, or henchman, or whatever you need...” I chuckle. “Are you hungry yet, Professor Higgins?”

_"Not really, but then I believe that is a common side effect. We should probably eat, yes." I nod._

I tilt my head. “Side effect?” I ask.

_"Oh! How quickly you forget. I'm wounded," I pout. "Allegedly, not being hungry is a common side effect of infatuation. Which I am still suffering from, despite your aristocratic reveal."_

God... could you be any more perfect?

“Wait just a moment-” I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “I seem to be suffering from the same condition! It must be infectious... but since we’re both already infatuated, this is perfectly safe,” I assure you, and pull you back into a kiss.

_*Thank* you. This is kind of a big thing for me._

_And – it is for you as well. I can see that in the way you look at me, the way you act around me, the way you panicked when you thought I might be less interested in you because you're the son of a Lord..._

_as if. Us common people find that stuff sexy, Seb._

_"I don't know - I was absolutely fine until I kissed you. I'm pretty sure this affliction is orally transmitted..."_

_I kiss you back passionately._

_"See?"_

“Fuck yes, I do,” I mutter thickly, my arms tightening around you. Then I shake myself, kiss you lightly - and ruefully pull away. “Maybe less safe than I thought. The condition seems to worsen the more physical contact there is... Breakfast will be nice and grounding, I’m sure...”

I realize there’s no table in the kitchen, but there’s a chair next to the counter - probably for the housekeeper to sit and drink tea after cooking lavish dinners for the Fitzsimonses. God, I’ve never met them and I can’t stand them. I’m _glad_ I dented their wall and got fucked in their fancy bed...

I gesture grandly at the chair, and you sit.

Then I busy myself pulling things out from the pantry and freezer.

“Coffee or tea?” I ask cheerfully.

_"Coffee," I say, leaning back on the chair. It's nice having someone cook me breakfast..._

_You use the percolator, heat beans, fry bacon, cook hash browns, all at once, waving away my half-hearted offers to help. You seem to be really enjoying this - such a caring person..._

_I drag in another chair from the utility room, place it next to the counter, so we can both eat here - it doesn't make sense to go into the large dining room where we might be visible if a neighbour happens to look out of one particular window. It's best to be safe - and I like the kitchen, it's cosy._

_"Et voilà!" you exclaim, sliding a plate heaped with food in front of me. I look at you - did you mean to share the plate? But no, you have your own one, equally heaped._

_Well, I'll give it a valiant effort..._

_I start nibbling on the bacon. Perfectly cooked..._

_"You're a natural," I comment._

God, it’s so rare that I actually have a kitchen I can roam freely in. Mum finds it truly bizarre that I would want to, and always insists the cook or the housekeeper will prepare whatever I could possibly want - even simple things like _toast_.

So the only times I can use a kitchen is if I spend the night at someone’s house and there are no parents to get in the way the next morning - it has happened occasionally with hook-ups, but more often with parties. I don’t usually spend the night with a partner if it can be avoided.

But you are the first person in two years I’ve wanted to spend the night with, and the next day, as well - and I have a kitchen to entertain myself in!

I immediately enter a zone of finding harmony in chaos as I check frying, toasting, and percolating for progress, and then plate up and fill cups.

We balance our hearty breakfasts on our laps, and sip coffee with pleasure.

“Mmm... I have a way with breakfast foods,” I agree. “I can make dinner, but I don’t have as much of a knack. It’s just a shame you don’t get to see what I can do with eggs! Are we coming back here tonight? Maybe we can find a shop and buy milk and eggs, so I can really dazzle you...” I take a hearty mouthful of beans and toast, and watch as you daintily work on your first rasher.

“You’re so elegant...” I say admiringly. “Mum always told me my table manners are like a heathen’s,” I snort, and take another big bite.

_"Does she know many heathens?" I ask. I'm inwardly beaming - you want to come home with me again tonight! Well - here, which is not home, but then neither is home._

_And you want to get *supplies* so you can make me a dazzling breakfast... I really don't want to think about how I'll ever work my way through one, but the fact that you seem to really look forward to it makes me smile inside._

_I add sugar to my coffee, you don't - no, you don't seem the type to have a sweet tooth. It's making me warm that I'm getting to *know* you..._

God, you have the appetite of a *bird*... no wonder you’re so small. Comes with being a junkie - appetite for healthy things tends to shrink.

I’m too vain to get carried away with hard drugs - I’d never admit this out loud, but I like being hot, and I like being a badass. But I would beat anyone into the ground who said so to my face.

When you slow down, I wheedle with you to eat a bit more and indulgently you have another couple of bites. When it’s clear you’re not going to eat any more, I polish off what’s left on your plate. Then we both sit drinking coffee and smiling at each other.

It’s fucking adorable - I have no idea how I’m going to force myself to leave.

_The sun shines through the kitchen window, dappled through the trees outside. Your hair looks lighter than at night, gold with a russet sheen to it. Your stubble looks ginger, your eyes blue._

_When you see me looking at you you smile, and your eyes look so soft, and I just want to melt into them..._

_Bloody hell. How am I ever going to let you go?_

_Not yet - we have - several days together still, at least. Who knows - might be sick of each other by then._

_*As if...*_

_I reach out my hand, you move yours into mine, and I hold it, stroking the long, strong fingers, studying the shape, the feel, the pattern of the nails._

You’re staring at me so intently, as if you’re committing every inch of me to memory - which is so flattering and sweet and sad all mixed up together, I don’t know whether to kiss you, or cry, or fall to my knees and wrap my arms around your waist and declare that I’m never leaving.

Which is patently ridiculous, but it’s how I feel.

Especially when you extend your hand and I immediately put mine in yours. When you start stroking it, I want to fall to the ground.

What have you done to me??

I just stare back at you in a daze - your eyes are gleaming dark pools. The bewitching kind that a water faerie would rise from, and make you fall hopelessly in love - before dragging you into the depths.

Come to think of it, you do have an elfin look to you. And we’re in Ireland - makes sense.

“Now I know what’s going on... You’re some kind of faerie who’s bewitched me, aren’t you?” I say knowingly. “I thought I only had to be careful in the woods here... not in nightclubs and back alleys...”

_I roll my eyes. "Ah yes, we're all of the old folk hereabouts... fallen on hard times here in the city, though, reduced to drink and drugs instead of honey and flower petals; having to resort to whipping and fucking humans to seduce them, rather than just offering them a bite to eat." I shake my head. "It's sad and painful, really. I wish you wouldn't joke about it..." I look up at you with a sad, doleful expression._

I bow my head. “A thousand apologies,” I say humbly. “I meant no offence. If I offer myself as a sacrifice to your queen or king, would that make amends? Although if I’m going to be sacrificed, I’d rather it be to you...” I confide, and bring your hand to my lips. I kiss the fingers slowly and look up fervently.

I fucking mean it. Can you tell?

Jesus, Seb... you can’t be casual for more than thirty minutes at a time, can you?

_"Hmmm... our Queen only accepts virgins, so that's out of the question... fortunately I prefer rugged, handsome men with some experience," I say, looking pensive._

_"Fine. Bring your sacrifice to the underground lair, where the fae with brightly-coloured hair dance their hypnotic dance. Make sure he is washed, oiled, and sweet-smelling; and does not wear silver._

_I shall dance with him... and if he pleases me, I will accept the sacrifice. If he does *not*... his fate shall be terrible."_

_I finish my coffee, look up at you with a grin._

Fuck... little Seb is growing hard at the thought.

I go to speak and my voice doesn’t come out. Jesus. I clear my throat and speak steadily.

“I shall do as you decree... and gods willing the sacrifice will not incite your wrath...” I say quietly, and bow my head again. Then I raise my coffee cup. “To your pleasure...” I down the rest of my coffee, and thump the cup on the counter with a smirk.

_*Fuck*, how perfect can you be? We're going to shag each other rotten this week, aren't we..._

_I'm too full to throw you over the counter and take you again, but... soon..._

_... and - yeah - soon you're going to have to leave, aren't you. But - it's half past ten - so less than twelve hours until you come back..._

_... and there's no doubt you will come back. You look as smitten as me._

_I raise my empty cup. "To *our* pleasure..." I purr._

I stand to retrieve the rest of the coffee, and pour it into our cups. I add a bit of sugar to yours, remembering how much you added to your full cup.

“I’ll drink to that,” I purr back, and clink my cup to yours.

_Oh you *know how much sugar I take* - do I have heart-eyes? I'm sure I have heart-eyes, like a cartoon character._

_"Do you normally take your coffee black?" I ask. I'm pretty sure you do - but there is no milk, so I could be wrong - and I need to hear that I'm not wrong, that I can read you, know you..._

“I don’t mind a little milk, but I do usually just take it black, yeah... you take yours with milk?”

God, you seem so pleased by my response! I feel myself light up like a pinball game...

_"No, just sugar..."_

_I knew it! I want to know everything about you, Sebastian Moran... I am not supposed to know the Moran bit, though._

_"So... any of the lovely ladies being thrown at you this week take your fancy?"_

I was _not_ expecting this question as I drink the remains of the coffee in my cup. An image of the sexual escapade in the gardening shed pops into my mind, and I push it aside quickly and cough into my hand.

“Fuck, no,” I scoff. “I despise that crowd with every fibre of my being... the ‘lovely ladies’ are tiresome pests. I want to drill through my own head when they speak just for the distraction...” I say scathingly. “I’m sure they’ll make dull, haughty wives for dull, haughty gentlemen. They deserve each other...” I growl, and shove my cup away.

_But you're the only son... the insistence will only increase._

_I'm not supposed to know that though. "Do you have any siblings to take the pressure from you?"_

“The pressure?” I echo. “No, no siblings... if there are, not legitimate ones,” I mutter.

What are you implying - that I’m going to cave just to fulfil a familial obligation?

“Pressure or not... they’ll just have to learn to live with disappointment,” I say darkly.

_“They’re not going to like that... though - could you make it seem like you’re seeing one of those girls? Maybe - is there one who’s sympathetic, or also wants her parents off her back? We could set her up with a date with my hot friend Stu, and you’ll both have the liberty to stay out all night, with both sets of parents nodding sagely and winking knowingly over their brandy...”_

_Probably not - it doesn’t sound like you’re on very friendly terms with any of them - but it’s worth asking._

I stare at you, shocked. “You think I should go along with their stupid plan? It’s so _insulting_ \- like I’m some prize stallion being paraded around to mate with a selection of well-bred mares...” I shudder.

_I shrug._

_"You come from generations of stallions paired off with well-bred mares, don't knock it - it's produced some *prime* stock," I grin, looking you up and down lasciviously, raising an eyebrow._

_"I understand the need to rebel against that - I'm just worried that they'll keep you from going out; especially when you come home with a swollen nose - sorry about that. If they think you're getting in trouble, hanging out with the wrong sort - which you definitely are - they're going to only increase their pressure on you. Like you said, it's a last-ditch effort._

_But if they think that their plan worked and you're copping off with some girl they like, they'll get off your back, probably stop throwing other nubile young women at you, and smile indulgently when you stay out all night because 'we were all young once'. It's easy to forgive a trespass you approve of..._

_Then when the time comes to head back, you and the girl have a fight and break up - they'll not be happy, but they can hardly blame you for it._

_Sounds like a perfect plan to me..._

_Stu likes blondes."_

You’re making more and more sense, but I find myself brooding, and feeling more and more resistant with every word.

Why the fuck should I make it easy for them?! These aren’t my values, it’s not my system... I just happened to be born into it.

 _UGH_... the thought of how smug they would all be, especially my father...

But if it would mean getting them off my back... I was more worried than I let on to you.

And mum would be happy that I ‘tried’... even if it ‘didn’t work out’ it would be throwing her a bone before I move away from home for good.

I groan and press my forehead against the counter.

“I know just the well-bred mare. She may have rabies, though - can’t tell her the reason why...”


	9. Push

_That inflection in your voice - that look -_

_You fucked her, didn't you? And neither of you were very happy with the experience - I wonder why? I can't imagine you being anything but an attentive sweet lover - but maybe not if someone is being a bit of a bitch... you do look like you're not very enamoured with her._

_Well, good. Stu is not the most romantic guy - I mean, he will flirt like you're the only girl he's ever seen, but the moment he sees another pair of legs in a short skirt, he's forgotten the last. It's good to know you won't need to worry about hurting her feelings._

_"Yeah, don't give her anything - just say you want to stay out, don't tell her why. Hint that you've met a girl your parents wouldn't approve of, maybe - she can hardly hold that against you. I'll ask Stu to try to get a picture of them together, so if she threatens to tell on you, you have dirt on her too."_

_I don't doubt for a moment that she'll like Stu - all girls do. Quite a lot of men too, but girls - he's like fucking catnip for them._

I shake my head, grimacing. “The only reason I’m going along with this is so nothing will interfere with seeing you. Well, if anyone gives me a hard time about staying out all night, I guess I have a perfect excuse - I can say I was hoping she’d show up to a party I learned about. They’ll be _delighted_ that I’m showing interest, _horrified_ that I didn’t connect with her last night... and downright insistent that I make plans with her as soon as possible.”

I smile at you, despite my misgivings. “Your plan is brilliant...”

_Don't forget you were supposed to have been watching films - after the party, maybe? But I'm not supposed to know *that*, either._

_"Why, thank you... I just hope she hasn’t got all enthusiastic about you - I mean Stu is hot, but he's no match for Sebastian..."_

_You look - oh, you don't like me calling Stu hot? Aw. *Awwwww*. And yeah, I guess I would have - but he's not interested in boys at all. And - well, like I said. No match for you. No one is._

_"So - battle plan. You talk with the girl, see if she's game. You got a way to get in touch with her?" You nod._

_"I'll talk to Stu - he'll be well up for it." I just have to make sure he doesn't realize how much this means to me, or he'll try to use it to get me to give him money or smack - I'll have to make it sound like I'm doing *him* a favour, or, well - good thing that most of the guys owe me some favours... it never hurts to keep people in your debt._

_"So then we try to arrange a double date tonight? Is that too soon?" I just hope Stu's not running out of cash, or he'll definitely want compensation. And I'm not asking you for money - I don't want you to think too much about how we make our living. I could lift something of the Fitzsimonses' - their audio set is bound to raise some cash - but I'd rather not. A full-on burglary is likely to cause more of an investigation than 'someone broke into our house, washed our bed linen, and drank our whiskey'._

_Well, we can deal with that when we know what's going on._

I love how your mind works, how plans just start pouring forth...

“Yeah, OK. Sounds good. I’ll call and see when she’s free.”

I don’t want to admit I don’t actually know her name, and stress you out. I just thought of her and her sister as Daughter One and Two of Sir Fuckhead Clement. I know how to speak to Mum to get information I need... I just hope it works in this case.

“I just have to make a couple of calls... the phone number is back in my room; I have to ask Mum for it...”

_"Oh - you want to call her from here?"_

Not really...

“Well I thought you’d need to know what evening works so you can get in touch with your friend...”

And I didn’t want to leave you yet... is that clingy?

Shit... it’s clingy.

“Or I could just go back now and then call you?”

_I... don't have a phone. But - I could stay here. But - I don't want you to leave..._

_"No - do try calling her from here? I guess that's easiest?"_

_So much easiest..._

“Ehm... yeah. I’ll just - call from the living room, if that’s alright? Do you want to - take a shower and get dressed?”

I didn’t mean that as an invitation, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it sounded...

_But if you're naked you can't run away..._

_... yeah, that's exactly the kind of thought that proves your insanity, Moriarty. Besides - do you want to miss out on the opportunity to have *wet* naked Sebastian?_

_"Let's," I nod. We clear away the breakfast stuff and head back upstairs, where I start up the shower. Ohhhh, that's lovely... strong hot beam_...

It’s strangely comfortable to be in the shower with you... and comforting. It’s something I’ve actually never done before...

Water running down over us, feels uplifting - god, when did I get so melodramatic and - sentimental?

I look into your dark eyes as we both lather up.

“Do you need help with any hard-to-reach places?” I ask innocently, and you scoff. “What? I meant your back...” I say in a lofty voice.

_"I know you did... just how insatiable are you?? How are you ever-"_

_\- going to manage without me -_

_\- the last thing I want to think about -_

_"- going to become an upstanding member of society - stop sniggering..."_

_"I'll show you my upstanding member if you'll show me yours," you grin, rubbing your indeed quite upstanding member against mine._

You splash water at me, and I feign horror which makes you snigger back at me.

I’ve always been insatiable... but with you, it’s pronounced.

I forgot just how hot it can be. Shagging the same person repeatedly... getting to know their body and their responses, so you can really drive them crazy... make them pant, make them come so hard...

Only I never feel that way about anyone I shag anymore...

but now that I’ve met you, my already overactive libido is ramping up with a vengeance...

“Fine...” I pout. “Just a boring old shower, then...” You shake your head at me, and I smirk and lean in to kiss you briefly. The kiss grows longer... the feeling of your slick body against mine is rapturous...

_Water all around us, blocking the outside world, rinsing away the past... just you and me for always, suspended in a waterfall._

_Your kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced... not that I ever experienced kissing... but I’m pretty sure you’ve spoilt me for anyone else for the rest of my life._

_How am I ever going to let go of you long enough for you to leave??_

After dreamily kissing our way through the rest of the shower, we exit in a daze and towel off.

“God, we’re going to have some cleaning up to do... shame this hotel doesn’t come with housekeeping service,” I grin at you.

_"Yes... and a shame *one* of us is rather destructive," I nod at the dent in the wall._

_"I was going to thoroughly clean the bedroom when I leave, wash the bedding, remove all our rubbish - they'll hardly know we were here. Maybe buy some flowers as a thank you - that'll freak them out," I grin._

_We get dressed; you look a bit uncertain. "I'll go... make some calls then."_

_I nod, sit down in a chair. "I'll wait here."_

I decide to place the calls from the kitchen instead, where I won’t be spotted from the street. I pull on my gloves, take a deep breath and call Mum.

She answers after one ring.

“Mum,” I greet her.

“Oh, Sebastian. You’re not home yet...” she says, sounding flustered.

“N-no. It’s just - a bit dull sitting around the manor all day...”

“I suppose that’s true...” she relents. “But you’ll be home in time for dinner, as we discussed...”

“Yes,” I sigh. “I have a small favour to ask of you...”

There’s a pause.

“Yes? What favour?” she sounds alarmed.

“You remember the dinner with Sir Clement and his family...” I say, cringing inwardly.

“Sir Clement? Yes...” she says cautiously.

“His daughters - are quite lovely...”

Another pause.

“Oh! yes they _are_...” she says, excitement in her voice.

“Well, I quite got along with one -“ I say, covering my eyes.

“Victoria?” she says quickly.

“What makes you think-“ I start, and I’m not surprised when I’m interrupted.

“She disappeared for _quite_ a while... and was giving you rather significant looks when they said farewell...” Mum says, a smile in her voice.

“Well, you were right... and I was hoping she’d be one of the people who showed up last night, but she didn’t -“

“Oh, you must call her!” Mum says firmly. “I’ll give you the number right now...”

“I will... she already gave me a number, and I think it might be her own private line... would you be able to get it from the bin in my bedroom?”

“Sebastian, why on earth-?” she sounds genuinely confounded.

“I suppose it took me a while to come round to the idea...” I say, trying not to sound like I’m lying through my teeth. “I didn’t care for the premise of this week...”

“I’m aware, darling...” she says gently. “But sometimes we know what’s best. And see how it worked out! I’m so delighted, my dearest. I’ll go find the number right now...”

I close my hand over the receiver, and mutter to myself.

After a few moments, she returns. “Well... by the way you crumpled it and tore it in two, I could hardly tell you took a fancy to her... Here’s the number, Sebastian...”

I scribble it onto a piece of stationery on the counter. “Thanks, Mum...”

“Do call her right away, my dear...”

“Oh, I _will_. Thanks, Mum. See you before dinner...”

“Goodbye, darling...”

I hang up and cover my face. One down, one to go...

_I listen in, again. I'm not your average junkie, Sebastian - I need information to function. I'm sure you wouldn't hold it against me._

_I almost feel guilty when I hear how happy your mum sounds - but then it grates on me. Can't they just let you live your own life? What's so important about a fucking family name? More important than your son's actual happiness?_

_And I can't forget that whatever happened with you and your dad, she didn't support you in the way you feel she could have. Nah - fuck you, Lady Moran._

_I can't believe she doesn't hear how fake your voice sounds - like you're pulling the words out through gritted teeth. The torn and crumpled note makes me smile, though then frown - she gave you her *number*? How *dare* she..._

_Relax, Jimmy, she may come in handy..._

_I hang up when you hang up, then make sure I pick up again the moment I hear the little ding of the receiver being lifted._

FuckFuckFuck... this is going to be _so_ much worse...

I would have been happy to never speak to the obnoxious bitch again... and now I’m _calling_ her?

I groan and stab the numbers with my finger.

After a couple of rings, someone answers - god, it’s _her_. I’d know that snooty voice anywhere.

“Hello, I’m calling for Victoria,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Victoria speaking...” she says, sounding haughty and curious.

“Victoria, this is Sebastian Moran. We met a few evenings ago at-“

“Sebastian Moran,” she interrupts, sounding smug. “You mean you fucked me a few evenings ago, and didn’t call me after. I hope you and your family are well?” Her voice is frosty and exceedingly polite.

“Very well. And yours?” I shake my head at the absurdity of the situation.

I hear her light a cigarette, breathe in and exhale. “Delightful...”

“I must apologize for not calling sooner,” I say, sounding a suitable mix of contrite and arrogant.

“We’ve been quite busy with events and-“

“Making your way through all the knickers you fancy?” She laughs. “I know your type, Sebastian Moran. So why are you calling? You were worried I’ve been home crying every night? You want to take me out somewhere posh, show me a good time? Or do want to give it to me down and dirty again?”

Jesus. How did this conversation derail so quickly? “I’m afraid not...” I say politely.

“No? Roses and a moonlit walk then?” she laughs. “Look, just tell me why you’re calling so I can get on with my day. Are we shagging or not?”

“ _Not_ ,” I say firmly.

“What?” she snaps. “Why the feck are you calling then?”

“Look - I have a mutually beneficial proposition. Just hear me out.”

There’s a pause as she takes a drag off her cigarette, and exhales. “You have thirty seconds...”

“I need an excuse to be spending time with a girl my parents wouldn’t approve of. If I tell them I’m dating you, they’ll leave me alone. So if you go along with it, I’ll hook you up with a hot guy - a friend of a friend. What do you say?”

“I say - that was about ten seconds. You had another twenty where you could have told me our time together meant the world to you...” she says sarcastically. “And that you’d love another sweet, intimate moment before you return to London.”

“Not going to happen,” I say firmly.

“Sebastian, don’t be a fool...” she sighs. ”What, you’re all over some low-class girl when you’re a hot seventeen-year-old son of a lord - on holiday in another country? Get over yourself... you can still have your fun... I won’t tell.”

“That’s not part of the deal,” I say, scowling. I knew this was a bad idea...

“We’ll see...” she replies smugly. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“You will?” I say, feeling suspicious. I trust this girl not one bit...

“Why not? It will amuse me, and anyway... you’ll owe me. That’s not a bad thing, in my book...”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “Fine. Are you free to meet tonight?”

“With you, handsome?”

“I’ll introduce you to the guy... name’s Stu, he’s apparently very popular with ladies. Meet us at the Bunker at 11?”

“It’s a date,” she says sweetly.

“For _you_ it is... Thank you, Victoria...” I say, even more sweetly.

“Oh you haven’t thanked me yet... but you will,” she says, sounding pleased. “I’ll think of a way, don’t you worry Sebastian Moran...”

I sigh, beyond annoyed. “I’m not worried in the slightest. See you tonight.”

Her voice grows seductive. “Looking forward to-“

I hang up before she can say another word, then I firmly put the phone down onto the cradle.

 _Done_. I lay my head down on the counter, and cover my face with my hands.

_Ugh. I hate posh Irish voices. So much worse than posh English voices._

_Ah yes, they fucked. Called it._

_I get red hot when she asks you to fuck again, but beam at your categorical ‘Not’. Then get even more furious when she suggests you can still have your fun with her along with the ‘low-class girl’ - little entitled haughty stuck up -_

_But you gallantly explain that’s not going to happen, which mollifies me - a little._

_She sounds shrewd - I’ll have to make sure Stu gets some dirt on her so she doesn’t try to get you in trouble just for the sake of it._

_You hang up in the middle of a sentence - shit! Don’t do that Sebastian. It’s rude - and it means that you’ll hear it when I hang up._

_I hold the receiver over the cradle till I hear your footsteps on the stairs - two-thirds of the way up - that should be safe. I gently put it down, hold up the book I’d grabbed from the bedroom’s small bookcase - Shinto temples in Japan. The Fitzsimonses get around._

_You walk into the bedroom. “And?” I ask._

I shrug. “Said she’d do it. She’ll be at the Bunker at 11, hope that’s alright for your friend. Fair warning, she’s a right bitch. If he can see past the book and focus solely on its cover, maybe he’ll enjoy himself,” I say wryly. “His prospects are good, unless he cocks it up terribly...”

I grin at you. When you don’t smile back, I hone in on your pensive expression - you’re almost brooding... What’s going on?

“Everything alright?” I ask cautiously.

_"Yeah, sure - just thinking about getting hold of Stu. He doesn't have a phone, so I'll have to go see if he's at his home. So - what's she look like? How old is she?"_

No _phone?_ I think, perplexed. Who doesn’t have a phone??

I can’t think of a conceivable answer, but you’re suddenly asking me questions about the stuck-up bitch. Are you worried Stu won’t find her attractive?

Fair enough...

“M’not sure... my age, I guess - Blonde, nice body, very pretty - in a conventional way, so hopefully that works for your man Stu.”

You appear deep in thought.

“Think he’ll appreciate that?” I ask, not sure if I should feel concerned.

_"Blonde, conventionally pretty, nice body - sounds right up his street," I nod._

_I should really get going if I want to be sure to catch Stu before he goes out. He's probably still asleep - but not for too much longer._

_I don't want to._

_But if I don't, I might not be able to take you home - well, here - tonight._

_I sigh._

_"I don't want to leave. But I guess we have to."_

You seem disheartened - oh. Is that what you’re pensive about?

Aww...

“If you have no other way of getting in touch with him... yeah, I guess so...”

I sigh and sit down next to you.

“I don’t want to leave either...” I admit. “But it’s just for a few hours, right?”

Ugh... a few hours of pacing in a mausoleum of a manor, willing time to move faster. And then another dinner to get through...

“I’m not looking forward to dining with more somnambulist wankers... but at least my parents won’t be shoving any of their tedious daughters at me…” I grimace.

_"Oh you never know; they may want to play it safe... get some daughters on standby..." I grimace._

_"Oh - just so you know -" I look up at you. "If you touch any of them, I'll take off every bit of skin that did..."_

_Fucking hell Moriarty. And this is why people don't hang around with you..._

_I follow it up with a smile._

_Joke - right?_

Ugh, you’re probably right about back-up daughters... and here I thought I was in the clear...

I’m distracted by the thought, and then I hear what sounds like - a _threat?_ And I have to repeat to myself what you said...

You’re smiling now, and you look positively feral...

I laugh in surprise, and then my smile fades.

“I don’t want their fucking daughters...” I say fiercely. “I want _you_.”

Now we’re both staring at each other like cagey animals about to lunge.

Fuck... what just happened?

I move my hand carefully and stroke your face. “Understood, Jim...” I breathe.

_You laugh, good -_

_\- and then you -_

_oh._

_The air between us is supercharged. And you - seem to *accept* what I say. As something -_

_not demented, but -_

_understood._

_I lunge at you, kiss you fiercely._

You kiss me like a creature unleashed - and I respond hungrily.

God… no one has ever kissed me like this before.

I want - so much.

But it’s far beyond sexual...

Our arms are gripping each other hard.

Your lips are claiming mine...

“God… whatever you want...” I mutter as I breathe raggedly.

_"Tonight..." I breathe into your ear. "God, the things I'm going to do with you tonight..." I shiver at the thought of having you to myself again, naked, tied up... god -_

_"Not long, Sebastian," I say, sorrow in my voice as I pull back. I don't want to risk our date tonight - I *have* to get home before Stu leaves. Once he's gone, he could be anywhere..._

_"We're going to have to go... otherwise we'll just get dirty again..."_

_I look at you, searching reassurance in your eyes that you *will* turn up tonight - that you won't change your mind and keep away from the crazy Irish kid..._

Oh... god... my eyes close at the words you whisper to me. The intensity of the moment, coupled with our imminent separation, makes lust and passion and wonder rise up in me like a tidal wave. My cock hardens... my chest grows tight...

and then - you pull away from me. My arms go to reach for you, drag you back - but you’re right.

It’s time...

“Fuck,” I groan. “Yeah... alright...”

Your feral intensity has been replaced by your more vulnerable, insecure demeanour. God, I can’t believe how many sides of you I’m seeing - each one feels like a rare treasure. I want to know them all.

I reach out and clasp the back of your head, pulling you forward until your forehead touches mine.

“Tonight,” I say fervently.

_God, we're enthralled, entranced, enchanted... what is this that is growing between us? Fire and storm, raging all-powerful, consuming everything in its path... what will be left of us?_

_Reluctantly, so incredibly reluctantly, I have a look out the front window, see the street is quiet, and we head out._

_It doesn't get less when we're outside, in the rare sunshine. If anything, I want to grab your hand, to ensure that you don't just - disappear..._

_We walk to the station, look at each other._

_I hesitate for a second, then grab you in what could be described as a hug, if a drowning man desperately clenching a lifebuoy could be called hugging._

On the way to the station, I keep stealing glances at you - wondering how you’ll be when we part, following your lead as always -

I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or assume too much -

I’m steeling myself for a casual farewell, and then I’ll just deal with my feelings on my way to the manor.

But then - you’re grabbing me, clasping me against you. I bury my face in your hair, breathe in your scent.

“Only a few hours...” I murmur. “Over before you know it...”

You give a long, shaky sigh, and slowly extricate yourself from me.

Which makes my heart flop over in my chest, but it’s for the best - I was worried about hugging for too long in public.

No one seems to have concerned themselves with us.

Now I just have to deal with the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“See you tonight. 11 o’clock at the Bunker,” I say emphatically, which is a ridiculous thing to say. It’s etched into my mind as if it were carved there. I doubt it’s any different for you. I move a little way into the station, and then hesitate.

“Jim...” I start, and then I don’t know what to say.

You look at me, waiting, your eyes dark and huge.

“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for me...” I say quietly. “I can’t wait - for all of it.”

There’s so much more I could say - but my throat is locked up tight. It’s for the best, I repeat to myself.

But who knows what might escape from my lips tonight... or tomorrow, when we part again...

_Fuck, letting you go is so *hard*... every nerve in my body is screaming at me to run at you and clamp myself around you and never ever let go again ever._

_It's *a few hours*, Jimmy... just go and recruit Stu, cook up, and it'll be eleven before you know it..._

_Your beautiful back, retreating, out of sight..._

_anything could happen. You could be hit by a bus. You could be stabbed. Victoria could get her claws into you after all - there are so many dangers for a hot guy in a big city..._

_come with me, Sebastian, let me keep you close..._

_I force myself to turn round, walk off, get on the bus home. Stu's still asleep when I get there, so I hang around and wait, but run out of patience, so start making little noises to get him to wake up without realizing I woke him - I want him in a good mood, after all._

_When he seems to be as awake as he's going to be, I sit down next to him. "Got a surprise for you." He looks at me, looks at my hand. "Not on me. It's blonde, pretty, posh, and has a thing for hot guys."_

_That gets his interest. "Wait - *you* met a *girl*?"_

_I decide to be open - it's likely Victoria is going to talk to him anyway. "I didn't - met a guy. Hottest thing you've ever seen - present company excepted, of course." Stu grins at that, looking surprised. "Problem is, guy is *also* posh, English, on holiday here, and his parents are trying to find a good match for him. They're trying to shove him at any 'suitable' lass that they can think of - but then he met me."_

_Stu is staring at me. It's not often that I open up about myself, so he's intrigued. I'm not sure if he knows I'm gay - it's not like I've ever shown much interest in either girls or boys._

_"So, we hit it off - but his parents are dragging him to dinner party after dinner party, and getting upset when he stays out all night. *However*, if they thought he was staying out all night with one of those girls - they'd be delighted._

_*So* - he takes out this hot posh bird, meets up with me and you - you get the girl, I get the guy."_

_Stu is looking intrigued. "Tell me more about this posh bird."_

_I shrug. "Sorry - haven't met her. She's very pretty, she's around seventeen, and she's up for it - what more could you want?"_

_I can see the cogs starting to work. "How long is the guy here for?"_

_"Depends on his dad. Around a week."_

_"So would you expect me to keep her entertained for a week?"_

_"What - you're running out of stamina in your old age?"_

_He shoves my arm. "Piss off. I'll have to see how I like her, though."_

_Time to put just a tiny bit of pressure. Make sure he remembers he owes me - not quite necessary yet to make it known that I have ways to get him into trouble. Keep it nice, if I can._

_"Well, you said, after that night in Phoenix Park..."_

_He hastens to interrupt. "Of course - I mean, anything to help you out, Jimmy. I'm sure I can keep a lass happy for a week - especially if she's got money."_

_"Who says romance is dead..." I roll my eyes. "Two other things. She doesn't know he's seeing me; thinks he's hooked up with some plebeian girl - no need for her to think otherwise. Second, she's shrewd, likes the thought of having some dirt on the guy - which is why I don't want her to know that he's seeing a boy. But also, it would be good if we could get some dirt on her in return - nothing bad, but a picture of you two together at the fair, kissing, or some souvenir knickers - you know how to be creative."_

_Stu chuckles. "Leave it to me, Jimmy..."_

_He looks me up and down, grinning. "Who'd have thought! Our Jimmy has a heart after all! They said it wasn't possible!"_

_I glare at him. "Piss. Off."_

_He sobers up immediately._

_Oh. Yes. Death glare might be a bit over the top in these circumstances._

_I smile, to show I'm harmless. "Still waters run deep, hey..."_

_He relaxes._

_"So - tonight at the Bunker at eleven. Come get your pussy while it's hot."_

When I arrive at home, I try to slip upstairs quietly - but I hear “Sebastian!” called out sharply by my father’s voice.

I turn around slowly, heart racing.

My father appears in the hallway - he gestures curtly for me to follow him.

I look up to the ceiling, curse under my breath, and trudge after him.

He opens the door to the study, and gestures impatiently for me to go inside.

I sigh, wincing when the door shuts behind me. Stiffly I sit on the leather sofa and wait.

“I am displeased that you stayed out _all night,_ Sebastian... I was assured by your mother that you understood such behaviour would not be tolerated,” he says coldly, scanning me from head to toe. God - I have no idea how I look, but I can only imagine.

“However... she also tells me that you’ve made a... connection.

With a very suitable young lady.” He watches me closely.

“I was under the impression that this would make you positively giddy,” I say, all innocence.

He huffs. “Let’s just see how far this goes before you gloat. Sir Clement is an important man. I trust you understand that ‘mistreating’ his daughter in any way would be a grave offence...” his eyes bore into me.

“Saints preserve us... I would never dream of causing her unhappiness...” I say, feigning boredom.

His eyes are like lasers, and I grow increasingly uncomfortable. “Don’t make light of this dire situation you’ve got yourself into. Your prospects are drying up and you’re only seventeen! Christ knows what deviance you’ll get up to at university..” he says in disgust, and hot anger flares up in me. I know exactly what he’s talking about...

“You _must_ have solid connections with good families to fall back on. So if any unfortunate rumours ever come to light... at least we’ll have a way forward. To _save face._ To preserve _the family name_. Because if you think for one moment I’m going to let you drag our house through the mud... and sully the great legacy I will pass onto you... you are a bigger fool than I even _thought_.” His face grows redder as he speaks.

I glare at him murderously. “Good thing I’m _utterly mad_ for Victoria...” I say stiffly. “Such a beautiful young lady - exactly what someone like me needs to toe the line... to keep me on the _straight_ and narrow path... _right_ , Father?”

His eyes narrow. “ _Quite_ right, Sebastian. But don’t be _reckless_. If you get her with child, I will march you into the church with my hunting rifle and see to it that you make an honest woman out of her. I doubt that’s what you want at such a young age...? After all, the next few years are for sowing your wild oats - discreetly of course, and don’t let it get back to your young lady. Not such a bad thing that she’s in a different country, hmm?” he says with a smug smile, and I recoil.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “Is this your attempt at male bonding?”

“Don’t be so high and mighty,” he snaps, his attempt apparently done. “It’s fine to have romantic ideals when you’re young. You’ll find as you get older, marriage is not so different from a political alliance - there’s no point in denying yourself for such an arrangement, as long as you keep your wits about you. Just don’t be bloody _stupid_ about it...”

“Like you?” I mutter. My eyes swing up to his, and his face grows hard.

“Keeping your wits, I mean...” I say smoothly.

He shakes his head at me in disgust. “We’re finished here,” he says shortly. “Do not forget what I said...”

“Oh, I _won’t_...” I say in a soft, dangerous voice. He glares at me and I rise. Then I stalk out of the study and leave the door open behind me.

I walk up the stairs feeling positively numb.

When I reach the top, Mum is waiting for me, looking worried. She looks me up and down, and puts a hand on my arm. “Are you alright, dearest?”

“I’m fine, Mum...” I say reassuringly. But I feel like all the strength has been sapped out of me. “I’m going to have a nap.”

“I had to tell your father about Victoria. He was furious about you staying out all night. But then he seemed quite pleased... Did he have a talk with you?”

“Oh yes... he did,” I mumble.

“And?” She looks hopeful.

“And... we understand each other...” I say, giving her a half-smile.

“Wonderful, Sebastian. Thank you for trying,” she says, and kisses my cheek. She smiles at me brightly. “Have a lovely nap. Dinner’s at seven.”

“Thanks, Mum...” I slip away, and close the bedroom door behind me. Then I fall into bed, pull out the flask from underneath the mattress, and take a slug from it.

Fuck... he always ruins my mood, I think to myself grimacing. Who am I kidding? He ruins my _fucking life_...

I feel the old despair rising up in me like a grey miasma - and then a face pops into my mind, and it utterly _shines_ , driving back the dirty grey clouds.

 _Jim_ , I think desperately. God... I _need to see you_. Eleven can’t come soon enough...

_Stu assures me he will be at the Bunker at eleven, looking and smelling his best. I have no idea what this girl likes so I advise him to go for the jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket look - it worked for Sebastian, and he does look good in it. I see him carrying cleaning supplies to the back room - it's a small room and has no heating, so we mostly ignore it, but it's fine in summer and Stu's been using it as a shag pad on occasion, as it just fits a double mattress. I grimace at the thought of Victoria coming here - but it isn't like he can go to her place if she's supposed to be with Sebastian. I just hope she likes slumming it... and it's not like she'll make the connection between Stu's junkie mates and Seb's mysterious low-class girl._

_I do hope Stu can keep his mouth shut... He probably will though. He likes to be the big man for girls, and I'm hardly something to brag about. Better to make up some mysterious beautiful girl that he's close friends with, but who is of course not a par on Victoria, dumb Sebastian._

_I head to my mattress, cook up, and am out cold to the world._

The day drags on and on - I stay in my room, reading my book and drinking from my flask. I listen to CDs on the stereo in my room - luckily I brought a few with me. Mum has food and tea sent up periodically. I stick my head out of the window to smoke cigarettes and joints.

I wish I could phone you. Instead I listen to music and imagine tracing your face with my fingers.

Then it’s time to dress for dinner like I give a shit - I stare at the mirror furiously. I mouth ‘fucking liar’ at my reflection. Then I trudge downstairs with a pained grimace, hands stuffed in my pockets - by the time I’m in the dining room, my back is straight and I have an amused smile on my face.

I’m introduced to people, I’m seated next to suitable daughters, I make polite conversation, and I try not to stab myself in the leg. I drink too much but remain pleasant. The daughters seem enamoured, and my father smiles coldly and smugly throughout. I want to smash something. I want to bleed. I want to climb up on the table and deliver a monologue addressed to dearest Daddy.

I smile my polite smile, and excuse myself at ten. Mum gives me a knowing look, and Father ignores me. I practically bolt up the stairs, tear off my clothes, and slide on my jeans, t-shirt, and boots. I grab my leather jacket, and then slip out the back door.

Within minutes, a cab has picked me up and I’m on my way.

When I arrive at the Bunker early, I don’t see anyone yet - I head to the bar, and order a beer. Music washes over me and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around with a grin. Which promptly fades when I see - _her_. She’s stunning in a short, skintight red dress and heels. Breasts presented like heavenly fruits, and shapely legs in fishnet stockings. Wild loose curls. Smoky eyes and red lips. I would normally gravitate towards her in an instant - a girl who looks pouty, sexually brazen, and looking for a wild night.

And I can barely keep a sneer from my lips.

“Victoria,” I say coolly. “Thank you for coming...”

“I haven’t come yet,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Buy a lady a drink?”

“I don’t see any here,” I smirk, and turn back to the bar to drink from my beer. “Well? What do you want?” I call back impatiently over my shoulder.

_When I wake, it's four. Ugh... I try to will myself back to sleep, but people are fucking *talking* and *laughing* and I'm out of sleep anyway._

_*Four* o'clock... How am I ever going to get through the seven long hours?? Over 25,000 seconds, and each and every *one* of them is dragging..._

_I can go shopping, and buy eggs and tomatoes and sausages for tomorrow morning... so you can cook me breakfast again..._

_But that should take about an hour, including delivering it to the Fitzsimonses'. So six more to kill._

_I grab my book, but my mind refuses to take in a word. I stare at the page in surprised frustration. This - being in love thing - is making me unable to *read*?!_

_They just let people, like - walk around under the influence of this? Drive cars? Operate machinery?_

_From what I've read and heard, it's a very common condition, and many people suffer from it repeatedly throughout their life. I shake my head._

_So no reading, no shopping yet, and *definitely* no finding out where the Morans are staying and staking out their place._

_I sigh, roll a spliff, smoke it, and lie back on my bed, retreat into the mind map._

_Unsurprisingly, it appears to have been taken over by an urban guerrilla movement which has spray-painted the name 'Sebastian' all over the place, with a few more adventurous artists going for 'Seb' or 'Tiger'. Giant billboards feature your face, as well as other parts of your body, clothed or not, and huge video screens play choice clips from last night. I let myself indulge in watching a few of these, reliving the intense, unprecedented, definitely unexpected events. Fuck..._

_*Sebastian*..._

_Eventually I move further afield. Not going too near the bad place, but close enough to see how the construction of the bunker is going. It's easier to maintain my distance now I'm infatuated - it's a lot like smack in that respect. It all seems further away, less relevant, something that happened in the past, to... if not another, a different boy._

_Foundations are being poured, large blocks of concrete and lead lining lie ready to be moulded into an unassailable prison, from which nothing can ever escape..._

_When I emerge from my sojourn, it's nearly six. I head out, go to the shops, buy supplies, and make my way to the Fitzsimonses' house. The street is once again, or still, quiet; just a dog running round a garden and barking, but too far away to be barking at me. I make my way inside, pretty confident I haven't been observed. I take off my shoes, don gloves, and put the groceries in the fridge._

_Being here again, where you were this morning, cooking breakfast, smiling so sweetly..._

_I head upstairs, to the dark bedroom, the bed that we slept in, throw myself upon it, burying my face into your pillow. I can smell you... the smoke on your breath, the gel you put in your hair, your cologne, and underneath that -_

_*you*..._

_memories of last night, your soft moans, your burning eyes, your words... all are replayed as I cuddle the bundled blankets close to me in an effort to quiet the frenzy in my stomach. I'm not sure how long I lie there, but it's so much better to lie here than in my own bed - here is where it happened, here constantly reminds me that it was real; your butts in the ashtray, the beers you drank still sitting around - I want to save each one of them as a trophy, but I will get new ones tonight, and if I don't, I don't want them to remind me of what I'm missing, so I tidy up a bit, gathering the sacred relics of our night together and putting them in a bin liner, making the bed, fluffing up the pillows so they'll be nice and comfy for you tonight..._

_Bloody hell. I'm turning into some domestic princess, delighted to make the place nice for her knight in shining armour. I shake my head, then search through the living room cabinets for candles, candlesticks, and a lighter. A candle *there* on that shelf and one on the table and one on that cabinet so it shines its light on the bed... it's going to look lovely._

_Eight o'clock, but somehow the waiting is easier here, where you are all around me._

_I shoot up again, don't go to sleep, but just sit in bliss in the comfy chair staring at the candle flame flickering and the dance of the light on the books in the small bookcase, the gilded chairs, the painting of waterlilies on the wall. Eventually I get a book out whose title has been intriguing me - Helter Skelter - it's about the Manson murders; I recall seeing it in the library and wanting to take it out, but being afraid to - it's one thing to borrow a thriller, but real murder - what if the librarian was going to think something of it -_

_I manage to get kind of into it, despite the poor writing, and finish it at ten._

_Time to get ready, Jimmy._

_I have a shower, style my hair, put on the clean pants and shirt I brought. No concealer - oh well. You've seen my spots now._

_I take the bus into town, head to the Bunker. I arrive at eight to eleven, slide inside._

_Oh._

_God._

_You look *glorious*. It's like the entire room is a dark backdrop and there's one spotlight aimed at you, allowing you to beam your radiance onto the lesser people surrounding you. I gasp - I *actually* gasp, and my heart beats louder and faster than the bass._

_*You're here. You're here. You're actually here.*_

_You're talking to a lass who has to be Victoria - that dress and those shoes are designer, must have cost a fucking fortune. And Stu is going to thank God, all the saints, and most specifically me when he sees her - she is *very* pretty and sexy. And - best of all - you are looking bored, obviously struggling to hold conversation, your eyes only occasionally meeting hers in between roaming across the room._

_Fuck... Sebastian... Here. Mine._

_I could fall to my knees and kiss the ground._

_I stay out of sight, just to be sure - I don't know how good of an actor you are, and we don't want to give the game away with you beaming at some random boy - though we could say I'm the girl's brother or something._

_I look around for Stu - come on mate. You're all that's standing between me and the most gorgeous boy ever to walk the streets of Dublin..._

_He's not here yet. Inwardly, I curse him - but then, we did say eleven... technically not eleven yet..._

_I head to a spot behind a pillar where I can keep an eye on the entrance and not be seen by you. It's sheer torture to be *so close* to you, and not run up to you, throw my arms around you, pull you close, kiss you... or even just *talk* with you -_

_you're *right there*..._

_Stu waltzes in at seven past eleven, like that isn't several lifetimes too late, fortunately looking his best. I manage not to pounce on him, not to grab him, not even to shout at him for taking such a long time - instead I pull him aside, check he remembers the key points of our deal, mention the brother plot, and triumphantly point out his prize for the evening. As expected, his eyes light up and he practically drools._

_Right. Here we go._


	10. Beat on the Brat

Victoria keeps trying to engage me in conversation in her strangely aggressive, flirty way. The less interested my responses, the more overt her comments get.

I feel like your voice is in my head whispering ‘be nice, Sebastian’ and ‘don’t make her angry, we need her’ - which I find _so soothing_ , like I’m not alone, and you’re not going to let me screw this up.

Still, I have to make it clear that I’m hands-off - especially so she doesn’t start pressing against me or anything wildly inappropriate that might make you - angry? I still can’t tell if your threat was meant as a joke or - ?

Had to be, right?

I shiver, and my eyelids flutter shut. It’s like there’s a disturbance in the Force, rippling through the room. I turn around, ignoring Victoria’s chatter, and spot you coming towards me with your hot friend Stu - he’s a looker alright. And he knows it. Sharp-eyed and in it for himself. Victoria won’t be able to push him around, but she seems to enjoy the chase, anyway.

I drink you in with my eyes for just a moment, remembering not to give away the game. I glance at Victoria - she’s ignoring you outright, and her sights are set on Stu.

“Oh _well done_ , Sebastian Moran...” she says under her breath, sounding positively feline. She finishes her drink and leaves her glass on the bar, tossing her hair.

You both arrive at the bar. Showtime.

“Hey,” I say to you and your mate, sounding casual. “You must be Stu? Great to meet you. This is Victoria...”

_Your eyes are on fire, burning through me, burning into my soul..._

_You look even more beautiful than this morning, if that's possible. Your nose slightly swollen - so sorry - but it only makes you look dangerous, deviant... god I want to grab you kiss you be inside you for ever - but also it's good to just be near you, see your look, see your smile - your smile for me... lighting up the planet..._

_Victoria and Stu are not wasting time, have already started flirting. I can see what you meant about her - she's a no-nonsense girl, knows what she wants, and *will* get it, and a bit extra as well, if she can. An excellent fit for Stu - he started off with his usual confident complimentary charm, but she soon got him on the back foot - this could actually be very amusing, seeing him be out-predatored. Kudos to him though, he's only fazed momentarily, then switches to her frequency, and they're shooting flirtations and innuendos back and forth, eyes gleaming, laughing, and completely oblivious to the rest of the world._

_I nod to you - "Shall I take you to our Janey then?"_

I flash a brilliant smile at you. “I can’t wait,” I say meaningfully.

I look back at Stu and Victoria - he’s whispering in her ear and caressing her neck, and she’s throwing back her head, laughing.

A strange thought hits me - Do I need to be concerned about her safety? Is she my responsibility somehow, for having got her involved in this?? I really don’t want that. She’s a big girl, she seems extremely worldly and street-smart when it comes to men; I’m certain she can look out for herself.

But still I lean in and murmur to you. “She’s safe with him, right?”

You look surprised, but you nod. “Safe as anyone can be in this world, Sebastian...” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“Then -“ I look at you longingly. “I really, really want to see my Janey... Bye, Stu. Bye, Victoria.” I glance at them.

“Bye,” they say in unison, not looking at us. Stu slips an arm around Victoria’s waist, and pulls her with him to a dark corner. Her hips swing side to side as she struts next to him.

I breathe a sigh of relief, then look at you long and hard. “And then there were two...” I say, longing to pull you towards me.

_Safe with Stu? What do you think - I'd get her a date with some dodgy guy and get you into trouble? From the looks of it, I'd worry more if Stu is safe with her. He's utterly defenceless against fishnets..._

_"Mustn't let poor Janey wait..." I grin, nod to the exit._

_When we are outside, I look at you. "Do you want to go dancing somewhere? There's this club called the Gonzo that's alright for alternative music. Or..."_

_Go home..._

Fuck - I want to be alone with you, it’s taking every bit of discipline I have not to throw myself at you... but after the day I had, it feels so good being out - in a space awash with music and drinking...

“We could visit our spot and look at the stars...” I say with a sly smile. “And then go to the Gonzo for a bit of dancing and a drink? I have a feeling I’ll want to make it an early night...” I say, stretching and faking a yawn. “I had kind of a big night last night,” I say, transfixed by your glittering eyes.

_"Look at the stars..." I grin, "is that what the kids call it these days."_

_Excellent thought, Sebastian. Gives us a chance to blow off some steam so we can actually get a dance in, rather than being thrown out for indecent behaviour after one song._

_I lead the way to our roof. As soon as we're on there we're all over each other - grasping, kissing, wrapping ourselves around each other, so desperate to be *together* -_

_"Fuck, I missed you -" I gasp._

“God - you’re _all_ I’ve thought about -“ I breathe raggedly, as we cling to each other and try to get closer - pulling at each other’s jackets, throwing them to asphalt. I spread them out, then grab you and pull you down with a groan - lying over the jackets so you can stretch out over me.

Neither of us appear to have any patience - your fingers were unfastening my jeans before we even hit the ground.

I have one hand in your hair, and one hand rubbing your cock through your trousers.

“Oh god - Jim,” I pant as I devour your lips.

_"Sebastian -" I breathe, my mouth relishing the feeling, the *taste* of the word, the most exquisite word in the English language, even though it was probably your dick of a father who thought it up, it's *perfect*, such a delightful rhythm; I have to say it again: "Sebastian..."_

_It's all of you I want, not just your cock, honestly, but I'm half-mad with frenzy and lust and I want you I *want* you -_

_You're rubbing me through my jeans, not good enough Sebastian, I want to *feel* you Sebastian -_

_I unzip myself, grasp you, one hand in your hair, the other on your cock, lips on yours, teeth clashing, catching my lip, doesn't matter, I taste blood, don't care-_

_*Sebastian* -_

Your kissing grows frenzied – fuck - my heart is singing from my name on your lips -

Need this, need you -

I yank my jeans and pants down first, then yours, and our cocks are pressed hard against each other.

“Oh god - I want you,” I groan, burying my face in your hair and beginning to stroke you firmly –

_Yes -_

_Fuck I've *never* felt *anything* like this - I don't feel - lust like this -_

_Usually when I have sex with someone else - not counting the punters, that's just a transaction - but the rare occasions I've had sex with a boy, it was a quick perfunctory act, pleasant - sure -_

_\- but this -_

_\- this is a violent fire like I've never imagined, all-consuming, not just affecting my nether regions but my full body, my mind, my entire *being* -_

_the full guard could come up to arrest us and I wouldn't be able to stop, I need you I need you *I need you* -_

_The fire builds and builds and I am lost, lost in a Sebastian wonderland, I scratch and arch and moan as quietly as I can, and shudder, and oh fuck -_

_\- explode -_

_"Sebastian -"_

I clasp you against me as you come shuddering, calling my name - god, has anything ever been so beautiful? I revel in every gasp, every shiver...

“Mmm... yess, Jim - I’m right here... at last,” I murmur into your ear. Then I capture your lips with mine.

_*I’m right here...*_

_You’re here, holding me... all around me..._

_holding me as I shiver, shudder, slowly come down back to earth..._

_Sebastian..._

_I remember my hand on you; oh yes, you deserve this bliss too, so much…_

_I move, looking into your eyes, registering every move of your face, the sound of your breath growing faster, more erratic..._

I was so enraptured by you, I actually forgot about my own release - but now your hand is on me, stroking - harder, faster... god, yess...

I feel my body thrusting, hear myself panting... but my main focus is youyouyou -

“Oh god - _Jim_ ,” I whisper, and then with a gasp and a loud moan, I’m overcome by violent shuddering spasms of ecstasy...

_Yes... Jim..._

_So much better to hear than Ricky. It’s real and it’s important that it’s real..._

_Your climax is a gift, a beautiful gift from you to me, that I’ll cherish in a special section of the mind map forever; a museum has been erected with marble pillars out front and gilded display cases lovingly annotated with place, date, hour, and circumstances._

_I hold you close, so close, as your breathing slows down, as you look at me with eyes so soft and sweet..._

_Sebastian..._

I shiver as you gaze at me.

Oh fuck, Moran... this is not just lust, I think as I try to quell the feeling of my heart wanting to burst open.

Then what - infatuation? Must be, what else could it be in such a short time, I think dreamily as you lay your head on my chest and I kiss your hair.

My arms envelop you, and I sigh contentedly.

_This is the best rooftop in the world... I'll move here... pitch a tent..._

_It's already got a spot in the SPMuseum as The Place of the First Time, on a pedestal with flowers round it, because the museum appears to be turning into a bit of a shrine as well._

_We lie there wrapped together in bliss for some time, perfectly happy to just be together again, breathing the same air, feeling our hearts beat in synchrony, my head on your shoulder, your nose in my hair._

I think I could spend the rest of my life on the roof in this moment... with you, under the stars...

But eventually, the sense of timelessness begins to fade, and ruefully I nuzzle your face. “You awake up there?” I ask playfully. “Do you still want to have a drink at the- Gonzo? Dance a bit? Just a spot of fun before heading back to where I know we both really want to go...”

You turn your head to look at me, and I pull you into another kiss.

_"Where I really want to go is right here - as close to you as I can be. I don't care if it's a rooftop or the Ritz..." I purr._

_I can't believe I'm saying all this - part of me is shouting that I'm being *vulnerable*, I'm taking *unacceptable* risks, I'm setting myself up for *total annihilation*, and I should stop this *right now, Jim Moriarty* -_

_\- but most of me is content just letting that part shout all it likes and enjoying feeling better than I've felt in many years._

_"But yes, let's..." I smile up at you. "I'm keen to show off my *date*, the hottest boy ever to walk the Dublin streets - as well as both our smooth moves."_

My heart is turning somersaults at the things you’re saying... god... don’t you know how impossible it will be for me to not fall even harder for you if you keep talking like that??

Keep it light, Seb - no declaring eternal love on the second date... for fuck’s sake.

I grin back at you. The ‘hottest boy ever to walk the Dublin streets’ comment makes me want to preen. Aww... do you really think so?

“I guess as an English wanker, I won’t be consulted about the ‘hottest boy to walk the Dublin streets’ award - but _were_ I able to cast a vote, it would be for the dark-haired vision on top of me,” I say flirtatiously. “And believe me, this jaunt is just temporary. I hope you’ll be on top of me again, ere too long...” I wink.

_"Who are you calling an English wanker? Wanna take this outside?" I scoff, then slowly lift myself off you, get a tissue, clean off my hand, offer you one. We walk to the Gonzo and I feel like everybody must be looking at us, and where normally that would make me uncomfortable, now it's making me shine - yes, *look* at that beautiful boy, who's walking around with *me*, and we're going *dancing*, and then we're going to *fuck*..._

_The Gonzo is slightly less noisy music-wise than the Bunker, but they charge you to get in, so I haven't been before. Gallantly you pay for the two of us, and also head to the bar to order drinks before I can offer. Well, I guess I've paid for the sustenance at our holiday home, so we'll call it even and I won't feel cheap..._

_Your eyes gleam as you walk back to me with two beers. We clink them together. "Cheers!" I say, and "Sláinte!" you go. Yeah don't, Seb. You won't endear yourself to me by assimilating..._

On the way to the Gonzo, I find myself wishing I could take your hand... which is _so_ unlike me. You seem to be in elevated spirits when we sail through the doors - and even if we’re not touching, I feel such a powerful sense of _us_ , which is far bigger than you or me. I think anyone who looks at us would see it, even if it’s not obviously a sexual connection at first glance.

We saunter into the club, cool as you please - and before too long, we’re drinking any residual cares away. I think of the shadow that passed over your face when I toasted in Irish.

“What’s something you’d like to do in this life, Jim? If you could do anything...” I say curiously. If it’s open-ended and the sky’s the limit, hopefully it won’t feel like prying. I just want to know more about you...

_My first urge, as usual when someone asks anything about me, is to close up and run away._

_My second is to open up to you completely and tell you all about finding Georgie and giving him the best life he could have, which is *ridiculous* - I'd have to explain *why* I don't know where he is for a start, and I don't think that's a great topic for a second date._

_This is a light-hearted question. One that dates ask each other, which allows them to happily and freely daydream._

_So - what would a light-hearted schoolboy say? Well - you know I'm not quite light-hearted, and that I'm a bit smarter than your average schoolboy. But - just think of something nice. Something fun._

_"I've - I'd like to go abroad. I've never been overseas - not even to England; but I'd like to travel so much more - to America, Japan, China, Australia, anywhere - Africa, Europe - there are so many interesting places that I've only ever seen in films or read about in books. I'd love to see them for real, meet the people, see the culture, the museums, the artworks, speak the language -_

_yeah. That. Travel the world."_

_I smile at you. That's perfectly normal, right? And it's true as well._

I beam at you. “That’s - what I want, too. I just want to get as far away as I possibly can - from everything and everyone I know. And have completely different experiences...”

I realize my heart is racing. We want the same things... Does this mean one day... our paths could cross again?

Jesus, Seb - he’s an intelligent guy. He probably wants to go to university and make something of his life, not slum around the world with you...

_God, yes, get *away* - that's the first thing I want. Don't much care where - just get out of fucking Dublin and Ireland. When I've got Georgie back I'll see if I can get us passports and move to England - it's close enough that he won't have any problems with the language, but it will get us out of this horrible hellhole. I feel like a caterpillar - if I just get out of this cocoon called Ireland, I could spread my wings and be the butterfly I was meant to be..._

_I raise my drink again, clink the bottle against yours. "To the world."_

Different emotions flit across your face - desperation, urgency, and then... fierce determination. The steely look on your face, the gleam in your eye...

I have no idea what you’re going to do with your life, but I get a flash of - you on a throne, ruling the world...

And the image absolutely seems as it should be...

I try to suppress a shiver, and look back at you steadily. “To the world,” I echo.

May it lie at your feet where it belongs, Jim...

_You look so -_

_\- admiring... *adoring*..._

_How on earth? Scrawny, ugly, crazy, junkie me? Yet you seem as smitten with me as I am with you... You've shown it over and over again..._

_... and who am I to dispute this, when it's the best thing that's ever happened._

_I take a big swig from my beer._

Young lust

Happy just to be in lust

Never have to eat no dust

Everybody talk about

Young lust

You're dyin' and you're screamin' inside

Oh you're guilty way before you been tried

It's crazy but you're diggin' it

_It's not my thing, but I see your foot tapping, so I nod to the half-empty dance floor. "Wanna dance?"_

I smile at you, and tilt my head towards the dance floor - again, wishing I could grab your hand as we walk towards where people are dancing, making sure there’s space between us.

Ugh, this is so fucking annoying - there was a time I wouldn’t have cared, and just did whatever I felt like. But you’re the one who has to live here when I’m gone... What if something were to happen to you? My chest grows tight at the thought. Shit... should we really be doing this??

But your face looks positively lit up compared to the first couple of times I saw you... I can’t back down now...

You smile at me, and I start to sway and move my hips. After a couple of moments, two girls start to angle their bodies towards me. And I keep my eyes focused on you like a laser... occasionally taking a swig from my beer, and smiling at you as I do.

_We're dancing like we do anything - as if we have been doing it for years, somehow just knowing when and how the other will move, and matching it seamlessly._

_Some girls are trying to insert themselves into our world, well - mostly your world, of course, but you don't even glance at them. Exasperated, they give up after a while._

_We smile, and keep dancing. The world is ours, and the world is *us*..._

An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

Never said I wanted to improve my station

An' I'm only doin' good

While I'm havin' fun

An' I don't have to please no one

An' I don't give a damn

'Bout my bad reputation

I have a huge smile on my face as we dance, becoming less careful, and more obvious that we’re dancing together. We get a few sidelong glances, although it’s mostly from girls who seem annoyed at not getting my attention. Although I do notice a couple of genuine smiles from girls too, and even a guy.

Aww - apparently _some_ people think we’re adorable. And the ones who don’t like it can go fuck themselves, I think with a smirk as I watch you dancing like you don’t have a care in the world - I wouldn’t give this moment up for _anything_.

_I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation_

_I've never been afraid of any deviation_

_An' I don't really care if you think I'm strange_

_I ain't gonna change_

_An' I'm never gonna care 'bout my bad reputation_

_Oh no, not me, oh no, not me_

_Pedal, boys!_

I move in, swing you around, and put you back down on the ground with a saucy wink.

_I'm being picked up and twirled round like a ballroom princess, and I must have a grin from arse to armpit. I can see some stares, and I want to shout at them - 'see that? That's *my date*! We are *together*!'_

_We dance and dance, and I've never felt so free, so happy, so careless, so on top of the world... and best of all, I know when we stop dancing, it's to leave together, to spend the entire night together, and I shiver when I think of the sex we had last night but really if we would just lie in each other's arms all night that would be fine with me too..._

I just want to be beside you everywhere

As long as we're together, honey, I don't care

'Cause you've started something

Oh, can't you see?

That ever since we met

You've had a hold on me

No matter what you do

I only want to be with you

Fuck... I’m so glad we stopped in for a drink. How often do I have such carefree moments, when I feel like I’m soaring over the earth? I’m guessing it’s the same for you. When the song finishes, I’m about to ask if you want another drink - our bottles have been emptied and I’ve placed them on a nearby table.

But then a familiar intro to a new song begins, and your eyes light up and I wouldn’t leave you on this dance floor for the world.

_When I'm with you baby_

_I go out of my head_

_And I just can't get enough_

_And I just can't get enough_

_All the things you do to me_

_And everything you said_

_I just can't get enough_

_I just can't get enough_

Jesus... is the DJ a psychic? How are these songs so perfectly in synch with us tonight? God, I wish I could take you for a fancy spin around the dance floor... you seemed to enjoy being twirled around. The next time our eyes meet, my lips do a flirty air-kiss and you beam -

god, Seb - you’re not even a little subtle, are you...

_I'm in a sphere of joy; just you, me, and the music, moving, dancing, I could go for *ever*..._

_Suddenly, a jolt. A shoulder bashes into me - too hard to be accidental. I glance over - a sneering face._

_*Not. Now.*_

_I ignore the guy, keep dancing - but another jolt._

_I stare at him, and he steps backwards - I know, keep walking, mate..._

_But no. Too dumb or drunk to recognize his doom._

_Fucking hell. Are we going to have to go to a gay bar to get any peace in this town? You won't like the music…_

Feeling positively euphoric, my eyes close and I lift my face towards the ceiling -

_It's getting hotter_

_It's a burning love_

_And I just can't seem to get enough of_

When my eyes open again, I see you get knocked into by someone - hard. Your frown turns into a scowl as it happens again.

My eyes lock onto the culprit, who is staring you down - with apprehension and hostility. Did he just purposefully bash into my - Jim? Twice?

I take a step forward and slam into him, and he turns to look at me, outraged.

“What the fuck -“ he sputters, and I lean in closer.

“That’s _my_ line, mate,” I say, a murderous calm settling over me. “Do yourself a favour - _walk away_.”

_Am I floating a foot above the floor, hearts spinning round my head, Daffy-Duckstyle?_

_Why, I think I am._

_Did my *knight in shining armour* just challenge my assailant?_

_And is he *looking* at said assailant with *murder* in his eyes?_

_And does he look *unbelievably gorgeous* when he's got murder in his eyes?_

_All of the above, yes._

_The guy scowls at you, but walks off. I pretend not to hear what he's muttering under his breath._

_We do *not* jump the tiger and cover his face with kisses, Jim._

_Just a saucy wink will do._

You seem pleased as punch at what I’ve done, and wink at me in a most fetching manner. I give you a quick smile, then scan the environment for threats. A few people are watching the guy walk away, then returning to their dancing, talking, and laughing. God, it’s so easy for them, isn’t it? Not worrying about blatant threats at every turn... but like you said earlier, safety is not a guarantee in this world - on a bad day, anyone can have a target on their back. But I prefer to be hyperaware of potential threats, not blissfully ignore them like most people seem to...

The guy has returned to his group of friends. He’s not turning and pointing at us or anything - but I still don’t trust him. And I’d rather not leave the club and have a potential attack waiting for me behind every corner. It would totally ruin the vibe of tonight, even if nothing happened.

I lean in towards you, my hand on your shoulder. “What do you want to do, Jim? Stay here, or go somewhere else? Beat the guy bloody? Get something to eat?” I ask with an innocent smile.

_"Ohhhh, so many tempting options!" I grin. I remember my aggression from this morning - it would be good to get rid of some... and I don't want to hurt you._

_I mean, I do - but - in a more controlled way._

_I look at your face. Is this something normal people do? It must be; otherwise why do guys go out looking for a fight all the time?_

_"I wouldn't mind a scrap... you?"_

_I see that gleam in your eyes for a second, before concern steps in. "There's quite a few of them, though..."_

_"They're also quite drunk," I scoff. "Tell you what - we'll kiss and walk out arm in arm. See if they follow us. If they do - they're fair game; if they don't - they're lucky. What say you, Sebastian? Up for a bit of slap and tickle?"_

I know what your decision is going to be before you give it - the look in your eye tells me you’re not going to be satisfied with watching the wanker just walk away.

Perfect - I didn’t want to drag you into anything, but there’s a hunger in you that mirrors my own.

“Flush out the quarry?” I flash a predatory smile at you. “Mmm... A true hunter you are...”

We grin at each other, and I can feel my heart rate increase as a tremor of excitement moves through me - If the guy could see what was rising between us, he’d be wise to fucking _run_.

God - if this happens, how much more intense will tonight be?

I shiver at the thought, and your eyes positively _glitter_. I stare at you in awe for a moment before you pull me into a kiss - then my eyes close as your lips claim my own.

_Don't get too carried away, Jimmy... you are in enemy territory; just because your knight has his lips on yours and his hand on your side doesn't mean you can float away..._

_All too quickly I let go, grin at you, put my arm around your waist as we walk towards the exit._

_Gotcha._

_A group of about eight guys follows us._

We exit the club, and walk for a few moments, the pounding music diminishing in volume behind us. I can feel the vibration of the bass and percussion, overlaying the excitement thrumming through my veins.

I turn and look at you, and I know it’s the same for you. I glance back surreptitiously, and a many-headed shadow emerges from the doors. Muttering and laughter floats towards us.

“Our fans are desperate for attention,” I murmur. “But I don’t think they’ll be satisfied with autographs...”

You giggle, and I smile despite everything. Fuck, this is going to feel good...

_I turn into a reasonably quiet alley. No fun if we get the guards joining in just as we're getting going. We walk along for a bit, then I pull you to the wall, start kissing you._

_I love normal people sometimes. They're *so* predictable..._

_The drunk morons come walking up to us, whispering among themselves. The bravest, drunkest, or stupidest walks up to us, pushes you._

_"Hey!"_

_You turn round, smile sweetly. "Hey!"_

_The idiot looks taken aback. I giggle._

_"Hey!!" he tries again._

_"Heyyyyy!" we reply in unison, then burst into laughter._

_Oh god you're perfect..._

_His mate has decided to help him out, comes striding forth, pushes me. "You're a bunch of *faggots!*" he states imperiously._

_"Yes!" I beam at him. "Isn't it *fabulous*?"_

_He looks puzzled. Dear god. These guys don't have a brain cell between them._

_"Faggots!" he tries again, like I missed my cue._

_The guy behind them has had enough of the verbal sparring, nudges his friend aside, and aims a blow at your chin. Fortunately, we saw it coming a mile off, and you grab his arm, kick his knee, and he's lying on the ground, looking confused._

_That's the cue for the rest of them. They move towards us. You step forward, and I know who you're going for, so I head for the guy next to him. They're big, but they're slow, drunk, and dumb - both of them are on the ground in no time._

_Now we have a full stampede coming at us._

_I chance the briefest glance aside - your lunatic grin tells me all I need. For a start, I know its exact duplicate is on my face._

Duck, punch - watch one fall down, go boom. Chuckle.

Kick, dodge, elbow to the face - wave at another as he falls over, shouting.

Glance over at you, and get temporarily awestruck at your fighting - god, you’re so beautiful and vicious - then get punched in the jaw, and feel inspired to deliver a headbutt to my assailant. Watch him go down, flailing and weeping.

See you get shoved against a wall - I fly at your attacker like a force of nature - arm around his neck, choking as I pull him away.

In an instant, I can see myself snapping his neck, and I can almost hear the crack - instead I shove him away blindly and he falls over. He lurches up and in a fury starts to come at me - until he sees the look on my face - a haunted look comes over him, and he screams at his drunk buddies that they should go - half of them are injured and moaning about it, half of them are looking apprehensive as they shuffle towards us.

Still need convincing? I think in annoyance.

I grab the closest one, run him into a brick wall. He bounces off it, and crumples into a heap.

“God, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” I say cheerfully. But there is nothing cheerful about the look I give the drunken louts still standing. “If there is a tomorrow,” I drawl as I take a step forward.

_It's a beautiful dance, so much more keen than the dance we had in the club, because we're on the edge between hurting and being hurt, sometimes on one side, sometimes the other, but never too far._

_The guys are like I expected - swinging fists slowly, either coming at us one at a time, or getting in each other's way._

_I'm punching and kicking to my heart's delight - there's going to be a few sore ribs, knees, and jaws tomorrow. It's *so good* to be able to let go..._

_I am constantly aware of you fighting beside me, moving gracefully and quickly, there in an instant when one of them actually manages to get a threat in._

_And something shifts - from them about to beat up the fags, they become the prey, and they realize it, drunk though they are. A herd mind sets in, they draw closer together, shuffle backwards. You walk towards them, and they run._

_Then you turn to me, looking magnificent - oh yes, you *are* a tiger. Stalking towards me carefully but with determination, your eyes gleaming, blood on your cheek - not your own - looking me over, asking if I'm alright._

_"Never been better, Tiger," I grin._

I grin back at you, blood pumping with adrenaline, heart pounding with excitement - but suddenly there’s a shift and the excitement is no longer just about the violence but what I shared with you...

“I know the feeling,” I growl, stepping forward and sweeping you up into a hungry kiss.

_Ohhh, I like this tiger... having defended his territory he’s eager to claim his mate..._

_And I’m eager to be that mate, and let myself be swept into the kiss, between you and the wall, turning up my head and tasting beer, adrenaline, smoke, violence, lust, that magnificent heady cocktail I’ve come to know and love._

_“I quite enjoy dates with you...” I grin as we stop for breath._

God - I can’t get over you gazing at me like this...

I shake my head slightly.

“Fuck,” I say in awe. “I can’t imagine anything better...”

I kiss you again fervently.

“Whatever shall we do next?” I say in a low voice when we come up for air. A sly smile plays on my lips, and I stroke the hair off your face.

_"Oh, let me think..." I look up at the sky, seemingly thinking deeply. "A good date - starts with setting up one's mates, then some drinks, a dance, a good fight - done all that. Now whatever could come next...?"_

“Oh, I don’t know...” I purr. “I’ve heard good things about polite conversation over tea, and then getting home at a reasonable hour... I wonder where we might find someplace quiet to drink tea and converse?” I lean in and nuzzle your neck, relishing your intake of breath. Mmm... Jim...

_"Tea... yes, I think there is tea," I smile. "Follow me, Tiger..."_

_I like the nickname. It really suits you. And it's mine._

_I clean your face with your handkerchief and we hop on the bus for the short trip to the Fitzsimonses'. It feels good to be back..._

_"Now, did you want tea? Or might I tempt you with a drop of alcohol?"_

I feign surprise. “Alcohol, you say! Would never have thought of such a thing... you don’t suppose it will - put terrible ideas in our heads?” I nudge you with my shoulder. “We’ll have to be on our guard against any untoward impulses... agreed?”

_"No pulses here, guv'nor," I say in my mockney accent. "Def'nitly no untowardim ones."_

_I get us both a beer out of the fridge, and we head upstairs._

_It's already so familiar... like this is what we do now, this is our life, this is our home..._

_I think of how you unleashed against those guys earlier. Oh Sebastian... if only you were a Dubliner, we'd *rule* this city..._

I drink from my can of beer, place it emphatically on the bedside table, and then pull you into my arms.

“This isn’t untoward, is it?” I say gruffly, and begin to nibble your neck.

“Perfectly civilized...” I murmur.

_*Whoosh.*_

_Your teeth in my neck - it's like holding a lit match next to a puddle of gasoline. All of a sudden, I'm on fire._

_I groan, arch my neck back._

God, the sound you make - my hands move to your delectable arse and pull you towards me. I plant small biting kisses along your neck, and then move up to your earlobe.

“Mmm... is the gentleman growing too warm?” I ask in a husky voice, and my hands move up to the edge of your t-shirt.

_"Slightly," I admit. "It must be all that exercise - gavotting, a bout of bartitsu... it would make any gentleman glow."_

_"Allow me to ease your discomfort..." you whisper, and lift my shirt over my head, throw it over a chair. Now I'm bare-chested in front of a clad tiger... I lean back slightly, giving you the full view, for once not being self-conscious about my skinny chest. If you could have all this, Tiger... what would you go for?_

I eye your bare chest hungrily. “Infinitely better, but it appears Sir is still glowing... perhaps I could assist with another layer? For your comfort, of course...” I say smoothly, and gracefully kneel in front of you. I begin with your shoes, carefully loosening and removing them, as you lean on my shoulder. I put them aside and then unfasten your jeans. Your eyes gleam as you stare down at me - god you’re like a king... and I’m your loyal knight, I think dreamily.

Your trousers are rolled down and I help you out of them. I’m delighted to see the bulge in your pants - mmm, someone appears to be interested in more...

“Better, Sir?” I ask innocently.

_I sit back in the chair, looking at you. I'm enjoying this attention..._

_I nod, licking my lips. "Much better..._

_Pray continue."_

Seductively I raise an eyebrow. “As Sir wishes...” I purr.

My fingers close around the waistband of your pants, and you artfully raise your hips. I pull them slowly down over your hips, thighs, legs. As I toss them aside, my hand moves up your calf and I look at you admiringly.

“How do you manage to look so... regal?” I say with a slow grin. My hand continues its journey up your thigh.

_“It’s the golden throne,” I reply, nodding at the gilded scrolls of the baroque chair._

_“And of course the tiger at my feet...”_

_I reach out and stroke your hair. You lean into my hand. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen... I could so get used to this..._

_“Serve me,” I purr._

The feeling of your hand on my hair... I want to fall to the floor, rolling around with pleasure. Huh. I guess Tiger is becoming more and more appropriate...

My hand tightens on your thigh, just short of my prize.

“Gladly... Sir...” I growl, and dive hungrily onto your cock.

I feel you leaning back harder against the chair, groaning.

Fuck.. yes... _Jim_...

_Good... *good*..._

_But not what I had in mind. I guess the king metaphor wants some more exploration._

_I grasp your hair, pull you off._

_You look at me shocked._

_“Going straight for the main prize are we? What about foreplay, Sebastian? What about making me *feel* like a king?”_

“Didn’t that make you feel like a king?” I ask with a playful smirk.

You raise an eyebrow, and my heart quickens. God. You really do have me wrapped around your finger, don’t you. I bow my head.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” I say, enjoying your dominating demeanour. You really are exceptional at it...

I lift your foot, and press soft kisses along your arch and ankle. “Mmm... does this please you?” I murmur, moving up along your calf.

_That's better... worship me, Tiger..._

_It feels so intoxicating to have someone who actually appreciates my body - not a hand, mouth, or arse to use and discard, but the cherished vessel of an appreciated person. Very cherished vessel, by the way you look at me..._

_Having someone sit on the ground before me and kiss my foot - I'd never thought that would *ever* happen - looking at me with eyes that tell me you are not doing this just to indulge me; would do this all night if you could -_

_I lean back, smile beneficently. "This pleases me very much..." I purr._

I raise your foot to my shoulder, and continue to kiss along your calf - pressing my palm against the skin, admiring the musculature. My fingers grasp your flesh, enjoying the little noises of pleasure you make. When my lips reach the spot where your calf joins your hamstring, my tongue flicks out over it. I gaze at you, and your eyes are positively glowing back at me.

“Anything to please you,” I breathe, and softly bite your thigh.

_Anything to please me... oh god don't say such things Sebastian... do you know what that *does* to me?_

_You do, don't you... Your smile, your look, so pleased that you are pleasing me._

_I stroke your hair as you move up, kissing the inside of my thigh, then biting softly, sucking in the skin between your teeth... you bypass my groin for now, make your way up my belly and chest, gently biting my nipples, making me moan, then moving up to my neck, but taking a detour, lifting my hand, kissing the back, and the palm, licking my index finger and taking it into your mouth, looking up at me._

I suck your finger lightly, flicking my tongue against the tip, and then moving my mouth down and then up again.

You’re staring at me in fascination, your breathing deep and rhythmic. I suck your fingertip more strongly, then kiss it. “I want to taste every inch of you before this week is done,” I say in a low voice, and lick down your finger to your palm.

“Would that be pleasing, Sir?” I murmur, nuzzling your skin.

_"Very pleasing... why don't you start tonight..." I purr as you make your way up my arm, the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, kiss across the track marks without comment - fewer on the left side - up to my shoulder, then my neck - I'll never get enough of having my neck kissed, it feels *so good*..._

My fingers lightly grasp your hair as I devour your neck. I know not to pull your hair, or bite hard. I’ve come to understand that you respond to a firm touch that’s not overly gentle - a touch that comes from a place of hunger, but not blind lust - hunger for you, not just flesh… Hunger that comes from a place of longing and adoration. God, I wish I had more than a week to show you how adoring I can be...

I’ll just have to pour it into every moment we have together.

My lips move over your throat... across your jaw... up towards your ear. When I bite your earlobe, you shiver.

“This is a very good bit, riiight here...” I whisper, and suck it gently.

_So it is... oh god so it is..._

_"Sebastian... beautiful Sebastian, you are serving your king so well..._

_Tell me what you would like..."_

_Thus far I've been the one who's decided what happens, and you seemed to like it well enough, but - it's not like I have a lot of experience in this kind of thing._

_"Tell me what you would like your king to do with you..."_

My mind goes momentarily blank. I’ve grown so accustomed to letting you take the lead... in the beginning it was so you wouldn’t freak out and run away, and then it was just a delicious dynamic I was enjoying. Will saying what I want change that?

I have the impression that you would not enjoy bottoming, and my instincts about what a partner would like are usually very good... but then, you’re not as easy to read as most people.

Hmm... well, what _would_ I like?

“I rather enjoyed being fucked by Your Majesty...” I say in a rough purr. “How I would love to be underneath my king...” I breathe against your ear. “Taken by my king...”

_"Granted," I say, my voice hoarse with expectation. "Anything you'd like to happen before that?"_

“Oh... Fuck, yes,” I growl, momentarily forgetting our little game of a king and his lusty knight. “I don’t know if the Fitzsimonses have anything else that would be suitable for thrashing a knight... but I _love_ what His Majesty can do with a belt...”

_I can't suppress a little moan coming out -_

_I know you liked what I did, but - there's not minding something sexy, and there's - actually wanting it, desiring it -_

_My mind shoots through the Fitzsimonses' inventory - I want this *now* -_

_I grab your hair, pull you into a kiss, hot, heavy - then whisper "Get undressed and bend over the bed."_

_I let you go, put on socks and gloves and head downstairs._

At your response, I feel lust move through my body like wildfire. God I _love_ it when you manhandle me...

I shuck off my clothes, and they go flying all over the floor. Ignoring them, I get into position, wondering what you could be looking for in the kitchen?

My cock grows hard at the thought, and I momentarily press it against the bed with a long slow exhale.

_A jar full of spanking tools *right* there on the counter - kinky bastards -_

_I pick up the pot of wooden spoons and spatulas and walk back upstairs, where you're naked and obediently kneeling over the bed -_

_*god* that looks -_

_I put down the container and fling myself on top of you, pulling off the gloves, grasping my arms around you, biting your neck, rubbing myself against you._

_"You're the hottest thing I've ever seen and you're *mine*, Sebastian..." I growl._

I hear your footsteps down the hall, and my heart begins to race. You enter the room, and my breathing grows shallow. God, what did you bring with you...? I’m dying to know, but I don’t think I’m supposed to be peeking -

Then there’s not a blessed thought in my head as you plaster yourself against me - there’s just JimJim _Jim_ rubbing against my body. Saying the hottest most _unspeakable_ thing I could imagine... god, don’t - I don’t know if I can come back from that...

“Fuck yes, I’m yours...” I groan as my head falls back.

_I use every one of them - the spoons make more of an impression than the spatulas. You groan and squirm and gasp against the bedclothes. The heavier the spoon, the bigger the impact, so I leave the large one, three inches in diameter, for last. Red splotches come up in the centre of your buttocks, with raised ridges, and you moan so fucking *beautifully*..._

_Afterwards I fuck you like the king I am, feeling the heat of your bottom against my pelvis when I enter you, hearing you gasp and moan and seeing your face contort, looking so much like when it contorts in pain, but there are subtle differences, and I memorize them, so I'll never not be able to close my eyes and look at your face in ecstasy..._

_And I lean over and feel how hard you are, and I think I can do this, I think I know you enough now, know your face enough and your beautiful cock enough and your sweet sounds enough to make sure that we spiral up to the dizzy heights together, further and further -_

_\- until all of a sudden we're *there*, like a firework that's been burning its way upward until it's the time to explode - and we do –_

I’ve never made noises like this...

when you use different implements on me...

when you penetrate me -

and fuck me _so - powerfully_ -

god, how does all that beautiful aggression fit into that lithe, graceful body?

And looking at your face as you take me is like falling under a spell of bewitchment... your eyes gleaming as you thrust into me over and over -

I gasp and moan as you move inside me -

God – Jim -

My noises grow more feverish and urgent when you reach for me, stroke me so firmly and possessively...

Oh - god - yes - Jim - like - that -

_Just - like - that -_

Fuck -

Yes -

Oh -

God -

Yess-

_“JIM -“_

_Your voice groaning out my name is a magic formula, enchanting me, expanding me..._

_something cracks inside and I feel heat and chill and power and ecstasy and force older than the world..._

_I stretch out over you, feel your powerful strong muscles, hear your breath, touch your smooth skin. Sebastian..._

_"Sebastian..._

_I love you..."_


	11. Alone Together

I feel like I’m flying through mist while my body is left panting and shivering on the bed... but then I feel a tug, and I remember _you’re_ with me, and I want to return to you. As I float back towards you, I hear words that make me smile and I realize I’m back in my body, nuzzling your neck.

“Mmn... I love you too, baby...” I murmur against your skin.

And then my eyes fly open. Wait.

 _Wait_. What did you just - what did we –

_White noise in my head. Alarm bells going off all across the mind map._

_Something went wrong. Something that shouldn't have happened happened._

_You said -_

_*what?!?*_

_How could you -_

_But Jimmy, you said -_

_*I said* -_

_How could I-_

_*But it's TRUE!*_

_*You cannot love! You can't! You're making it up!*_

_I realize you're staring at me like a deer in headlights and I'm staring back at you exactly the same._

_Fuck, Jimmy - what have you done *now!?*_

Oh shit, he’s panicking... fucking wonderful, now he’s going to run away _again_ and then what!!

Fix this, Moran!!

Me?? What the fuck am _I_ supposed to do?? He said it first!!

Just - take - care - of - it - _now_.

OK, this is fine! This is totally fine! We just got swept up in the moment! We can come back from this...

Are you kidding??

Nono, it’s cool. I got this.

“Sooo...” I say carefully. “That was intense... erm. If you didn’t mean it, it’s cool. It happens.”

There. Wait. Did that sound like it happens all the time to me? Like ‘hey it’s cool, baby. Everyone thinks they’re in love with Sebbie...’

Shit. Say something, Jim!

_An - out. He's giving you an escape._

_Oh thank God._

_I open my mouth._

_"I never say anything I don't mean."_

_... that was not what you were supposed to say Jimmy. And you could possibly glower less._

_But it's *true!* Why is he trying to evade it!_

_Well, maybe because this is a fucking *summer fling* and you're going to be separated in a few days? And love makes that worse? and oh yes *you're a fucking psychopath who's incapable of love anyway*?_

_If I'm a psychopath then how can I know what this love is that I can't feel? I feel *something* alright! And it's manifesting all the symptoms!_

_*Infatuation*, Jimmy!_

_Well what's the fucking difference! Here, let me grab a dictionary from the shelf in the mind map: 'love (noun): an intense feeling of deep affection'. I got that!_

_What about -_

_oh -_

_what about you?_

_Did you just - say it because I said -_

_oh god -_

_did I embarrass -_

_are you -_

_silly little kid with his infatuation -_

_wanting to get away –_

My heart starts to pound. You - meant it??

And now you look angry!

Well, of course he does!! You just brushed it off like it was nothing!!

Moran, you _idiot_...

“Well, I didn’t not mean it either! I just didn’t want you to take off again!” I blurt out. Oh god... just take me out back and shoot me...

_"I'm not taking off!"_

_JIM! Stop shouting at him. And *stop freaking out!!*_

_*HOW?!?!*_

_I feel myself sliding out - oh god yes, condom - touch, pull it off, throw it on the floor - I'll clean that up later - I have a bigger mess on my hands -_

_"I - what are you *doing* to me?! What's next!?"_

_Jim! It's *not his fault!*_

I watch stunned as you shout at me, pull out, and shout some more.

I sit up abruptly. “Me?? I’m not doing anything! You said it first!”

For _fuck’s sake,_ Seb!! Are you _twelve??_

“And what do you mean, _what’s next?”_ I demand. “Why would anything change? So we have... feelings. People get ‘feelings’ all the time!”

Oh great, make it sound like we both contracted a contagious disease...

(Didn’t we??)

Oh shut _up_ , Seb!!

_"Oh do they? Oh that's alright then! But I don't! I don't have feelings! I'm a fucking psychopath, remember? I never had - feelings! And - and you said you'd only had them once - that's not - all the time, is it..."_

_My voice peters out._

I listen in alarm as you shout. God, how are things unravelling so quickly?

“No, I didn’t mean-“ I start in exasperation. But when I see your face, and register the fear and panic in your eyes, I stop.

Taking a deep breath, I plunge back in. “I didn’t mean people have _this_ feeling all the time. I mean - people do fall in love.”

Oh god, I said the word out loud... not in a blissed-out post-coital daze.

I cover my eyes with my hands, and groan. “Fuck... That’s what this is, isn’t it... it’s happened...”

_"*I* don't know! I don't know what love is supposed to *be*! All I know is - I want you to be here, with me, all the time, and I want you to be happy and smile because that is so beautiful and I want to see your face when I wake up and I want to see your body when you fight and when you work out and I want to talk with you for night after night about - everything - and I *never* want to talk with anybody because I *don't like* people but -_

_Sebastian..._

_fuck..."_

_I shake my head._

I listen to you unleashing a torrent of words, feeling a tremor in my muscles.

Oh - shit - Jim -

Fuckfuck _fuck_ \- what am I supposed to do??

I grasp your shoulders and pull you against me.

Erm... this isn’t helping, Seb...

_Piss off._

“I know,” I murmur against your ear. “I know!! I know exactly what you feel because I feel the same way - when I’m away from you, life feels like the same old shit it always does. And when I see you, I can breathe again. But what am I supposed to do? I’m going back - maybe the end of the week, maybe longer. But I have to go back... and then what happens?” I ask desperately, my arms tightening around you. “I’ve been handed perfection, only to have it taken away from me? How the fuck am I supposed to-“ I take in a shaky breath, and feel tears spring to my eyes.

Oh god.. no...

_Breathe again... yes, that's how it feels - that's exactly how it feels! Like I'd been holding my breath for the last two years, and then when I saw you, suddenly my lungs filled with fresh air..._

_But then you say the thing, the unmentionable thing, the thing that I have been trying not to think about._

_'I have to go back...'_

_No -_

_No I don't want that -_

_I don't want that to happen, and I need to not make it happen -_

_But *how*? We can hardly move in here... and you're not going to ruin your future to move into a junkie squat with me. You're going to university, study History, become something important -_

_And I can hardly travel with you - 'Ah, mama, papa, Jimmy here will come along with us. You don't mind, do you?'_

_And I have to stay here - have to find Georgie..._

_But I *don't want it!* There *has* to be a different way!_

_Maybe when I've found Georgie... we could go to England... meet back up..._

_Perfection..._

_Oh god Sebastian..._

_Oh no don't cry don't cry if you cry I will and I don't want -_

_\- why are you *blurry* -_

_"I don't want you to go... I know you can't stay, but - my life is so *shit*, Sebastian, you have no idea how shit it is, and it's my own fault, but I thought I'd never be happy again, and then you came and - you're right, it was like I could breathe again, for the first time in years - and that's going to be taken away, and - I don't know how I'll ever breathe again..."_

Hearing you cry makes me feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a torrential sobfest - but then I hear in the back of my mind _Be strong for him_. And I steel myself.

“I’m sorry - Jim, I’m so sorry. Mine is shit, too - and I don’t know how I can make it better. For either of us...” I cradle your head against my shoulder, feeling your body shake. “but maybe we can think of something...” I say desperately. “How long until you finish school?”

_"I'm not in school..." I say. "I can't leave Ireland - but - maybe soon, or maybe in a couple of years, I don't know... but I've been wanting to move out of this country. It's a shithole."_

Not in school...? I blink. Well, it’s not like I was never tempted to drop out. But you’re so intelligent...

Again, I find myself wondering what your circumstances are. “You can’t leave because of - your brother?” I guess.

_I am so longing to trust you... you're so sweet - but I can't; I can't tell anyone, not even you. And besides - how would you respond if you learnt *why* Georgie was taken away?_

_I just nod, not trusting myself to speak._

“I understand. You want to see him again...” I murmur. God. What’s the situation with your parents that your brother ended up in child protection services? Why didn’t you?

An uneasy feeling comes over me.

“Jim... can I ask - how old you are?”

_What?_

_Oh of course I never said._

_Wait - is that going to be a problem? Surely not?? But -_

_No. I'm not going to lie about that._

_"I'm fourteen - why?"_

My heart sinks. Not sixteen. Not even fifteen. God, you are so much farther from being an adult than I am... why didn’t I ask sooner??

“I thought you were older,” I admit. “You seem older... I thought - that maybe we could meet up again when we both left home...”

_"I don't have a home either," I sigh. "I live with - friends. Stu is one, there are a bunch of others. All junkies."_

_I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but it seems important that I'm honest to you. I want you to know me - the real me - well, as far as possible. I know you well enough to be confident that you'd never tell anyone - you hate society as much as me._

_"My mam - died. My dad’s an arse; my brother's gone."_

_My throat squeezes, but - it feels like a good thing that I told you._

_"I - I'm not like other fourteen-year-olds, as you've noticed. I always was - mature for my age. So - it doesn't really matter that I'm fourteen - I'm smarter than most adults, and I'm independent. It's not like you noticed - you just thought I was small."_

_I look at you, challenging. Don't you go all being adult and older on me, Sebastian._

My head is spinning. God. The things you’ve already had to deal with at your age...

 _At your age._ Am I thinking differently about you? You’re glowering again. You can’t read my thoughts, can you?

Shit- stop freaking out and say something.

“Fuck, Jim! I had no idea it was so-“ I shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry it’s shit for you, I’m sorry about your brother. Is there anything I can do?” I say urgently. “Anything you need - tell me.”

_"Don't pity me for a start. It's all my own fault." I scowl._

_No, Jimmy - he's being sweet -_

_"It's - there's nothing you can do Seb. All I want is - to spend as much time with you as I can, before you have to leave. And then - a chance - a hope that I'll see you again some time. That would be - that would be really good."_

_I swallow._

_"And don't hold it against me that I'm fourteen. You didn't know before - you didn't notice. I'm -_

_still your King..."_

My mind is racing - I think of eras gone by when age didn’t mean what it’s supposed to mean now. Teenagers married off, having children, going off to war, ruling Empires...

I picture you on a throne, wearing a crown - the weight of the world on your shoulders. My heart melts.

“You are,” I say softly, taking your hand and placing it on my heart. “And I’ll see you as much as I can. I promise... And now at least I have Victoria as an excuse to come back... but is there really nothing I can do?” I’m practically pleading. Don’t you know how much it hurts to see you alone and in such a terrible situation? Living with junkies at 14, addicted to heroin?

Fuck... you have to save him, Moran...

_You seem so keen to - what? Get my brother back for me? Get me out of my shitty place? What *can* you do, Sebastian?_

_You look so desperate - I have to say *something* -_

_"You've already done more than anyone ever has... you really have," I say, surprised when I realize it's true. "No one - well, apart from Mam and my brother - has ever loved me for me, cooked me breakfast, tried to make me happy - *cared* about me, how I felt, and acted accordingly. You have no idea how - special that is."_

_I sigh. "You want to help me? I thought my life was over - that I'd never be happy again. All that kept me going was my brother - not wanting to fail him - again. And then - you showed me that happiness may exist. Even for someone like me._

_You have given me more than anyone ever has, Sebastian..."_

I feel panic-stricken, desperate - I’m thinking of possible solutions to your problems, and slamming into walls -

But maybe now is not the time to fix this - I need to think when my head is clear.

For now, you’ve only asked me to be here with you - how could I deny you that?

“I - feel the same way, Jim...” I say quietly. “I’ve wanted to end it all, more times than I can count. You’re the only thing that -“ I pause, place your hand against my cheek. My eyes close. “You’re the only thing...” I murmur, breathing in your scent.

_I hold you close. "Why, Sebastian? Was it because - your love died?" It hurts to say it, but - I want to know –_

A sob escapes me. “Oh god - don’t-“ I protest, eyes widening.

Horrified, I freeze. Panic and dread surge through me. My muscles begin to shiver. Another sob breaks free. And another.

“Oh fuck- no-“ I hear myself whimper as I shake against you, desperately trying to keep more from escaping. Stop this - _you will stop this, Sebastian_ -

And then the dam breaks.

And I weep.

And howl.

And scream.

All the grief and rage I never let go of, for David’s death -

and for myself, left behind shattered and consumed...

“It’s - my fault,” I whisper brokenly, in between sobs. “All - m-my - fault-“

_Oh my god - I've unleashed something *horrendous* -_

_*Hold* him, support him, for fuck's sake, like he did for you - you'd have shattered to pieces if he hadn't held you together. Arms around him. Stroke his hair. Let him cry - it's like a fucking avalanche and if I try to get him to stop it he'll be drowned in it._

_The howling and screaming tear straight through me. They're an echo of what's inside me, and reflect the pain - and I don't want to hear that pain from you. Anyone, but not you._

_Fuck psychopath. Dublin psychiatrist needs a new hobby._

_Your fault?_

_The thought shoots through my head - you - a killer too?_

_No - of course not Jimmy, normal people aren't killers, you can feel guilty for the death of someone else for a thousand reasons..._

_Did he commit suicide after you broke up with him? Was he killed in an accident that you caused?_

_I feel jealous in a way, and know that it's wrong - that's something, at least, right? But - why are you crying for him when you have me??_

_Don't think that. This is old hurt. He's carried it with him and now it needs to come out. It's not like he'll ever have cried in front of his parents or those psychiatrists._

_"Seb... Sebastian... why do you think it's your fault?"_

I hear words as I’m sobbing, and try to rein myself back in to understand what you said.

Why? Because it _is_ my fault...

“He was threatened - by someone who didn’t like the idea of ‘fucking fairies’-” I choke out. “And I - p-pressured him to keep dating and not be scared! And he was beaten to a pulp! And - thrown in a river and he _died!”_ I moan, sagging against you. “My best friend is _gone_ because I’m an entitled bastard - and I just had to have what I wanted!” I try to catch my breath, resting my head against your shoulder. “I should never have - I should have left him alone -“ I mutter against your skin, taking shuddering breaths.

_What?!_

_Threatened?? Beaten to a pulp - thrown in a river - *died?!?*_

_Because someone didn't like fucking fairies???_

_Who -_

_Suddenly the penny drops._

_I turn the conclusion over in my head for weak points, but no, it all fits perfectly together -_

_Oh god._

_Oh my fucking god._

_No wonder you hate him with every fibre of your being - no wonder you feel your mother let you down, if she didn't back you up in this, if she let you fight this battle alone - and you *did* fight the battle, and you encouraged your boyfriend to fight with you, and you *lost* -_

_Lost *terribly*..._

_Regardless of whether it was his intention to have your boyfriend killed or just to scare him - it's *monstrous* -_

_and having you live with that *guilt* - that he was killed because you urged him to fight for your right to fucking *exist* -_

_*I'll kill him for you.*_

_Don't say that Jimmy - it's *not* what people say._

_But - if you want me to, I will._

_It's *not* what people ask either. Say something useful._

_"Sebastian..." I hold you as you sob, and weep, and breathe unevenly; reach out for the tissues, wipe your eyes and your nose._

_"Sebastian, you did the right thing - you stood up for your right to love who you wanted. That is *brave*, not entitled. You encouraged him to do so too - you encouraged him to do the right thing. You didn't *force* him, did you? It was his own choice, even if you pressured him - and it was the *right* choice! *You* are not responsible for his death, the person who killed him is - or the person who ordered him beaten up._

_How could you know that your *own father* would go to such *unimaginable* lengths??"_

I’m listening to you as I cry, and I so want to believe you but you don’t know, you _can’t_ know -

Then you utter something that sears through me and I recoil, gasping, “What did you say??”

My heart begins to slam in my chest, and my body grows cold. “What about my father??”

_Oh -_

_You're looking at me like -_

_But that's what *you* think -_

_Isn't it?_

_Or - is it something you think - subconsciously? That I picked up on?_

_"I'm - sorry -_

_I thought -_

_well, everything you said about your father - he's someone invested enough to threaten your boyfriend - your boyfriend, not you -_

_it made sense - he had the motive, the means, and the opportunity - and it explains why you hate him so much..."_

_You're looking at me like a wild animal._

“Stop... You can’t know - you couldn’t possibly -“ I growl, and get up slowly from the bed. I start to pace, my hands clenched into fists.

“Did I say anything to you about him?” I mutter. “I didn’t, I wouldn’t have... you can’t _know that_...”

_“Seb – sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you further –“_

_oh really? Well you're doing a *great* job there Jimmy –_

_“It’s just – I thought that was what you thought – I mean, it makes sense – and the way you talked about your father – with such hurt and grief and anger, not the usual teenage antagony between father and son, but a deep deep pain –_

_and your mam, you feel she doesn’t support you –_

_and the way you’re lashing out against society, with your vandalism, petty crime – you feel fucked over by all three; dad, mam, and society._

_So – what does society have against handsome young blond aristocratic boys? The only thing it could see as wrong is you being bisexual._

_And your dad would *hate* you having a boyfriend – he wants you to marry and pop out babies, but worse than that, the *shame* on the family, he could never show his face in society again. So he must have pressured you – and your mam didn’t support you enough, so you feel let down by her._

_But you didn’t give in, so he threatened your boyfriend. I mean – if it were *not* him, but some generic homophobes, why would they only threaten him and not you? And generic homophobes don’t usually go after one person systematically – they beat up gays when they see them, not threaten one specific guy, then keep an eye on that one specific guy to see if he engages in homosexual behaviour again, then beat him up when he is *alone* and *not* at that moment engaged in homosexual behaviour._

_And – you believe that too, Sebastian. I can feel it in the way you talk about your father – you may not know it consciously, but you hate him for this, because you hold him responsible.”_

“I’ve _always_ hated him,” I protest hotly. “It comes from being berated my whole fucking life, and the occasional thrashing for not doing what I’m told! Aristocracy doesn’t seem so fucking glamorous now, does it!! But it still doesn’t mean -“ I swallow hard, and the lump in my throat feels like shards of glass. “Doesn’t mean he would -“

Suddenly feeling weak, I sit hard on the floor. I cover my face. “Oh god,” I say hoarsely. “Fuck! He wouldn’t!”

I’m all set to shout at you, argue, tell you that you’re crazy - but something you said has trickled through. Why wasn’t I threatened?

“NoNoNO...” I moan into my hands desperately. “It _can’t_ be -“

_Oh fuck -_

_Very *clever* of you Jimmy. Now you've upset him even *more* -_

_*NOW* what??_

_*Don't panic* - don't you *fecking* panic Jimmy -_

_But *do* something Jimmy -_

_"I'm - sorry Seb -"_

_Say you might have been wrong -_

_But I'm *not* wrong!_

_That's *exactly* the kind of attitude that used to get you beaten up Jimmy! And you didn't care about that but you do care about this Jimmy!_

_"I may be wrong - I don't know him, after all..."_

_I'm not wrong._

No, but I fucking know him... don’t I.

I focus on breathing as I sit with my head in my hands.

Finally when I’m confident my voice won’t waver, I look up, stone-faced.

“I need to get out of here,” I say grimly. “I can’t be inside right now...”

I jump up and start putting on my clothes. I need to walk... smash something... scream at the sky... before I destroy this entire house.

You look alarmed. Terrified. About me leaving?

Yes. Of course.

“I’ll come back. Don’t leave...” I say quietly and make a beeline for the door.

_Oh -_

_\- oh no -_

_\- oh god you're gone you're going you're leaving me I fucked up -_

_I fucked *everything* up -_

_You *idiot* Jim - who *says* that about someone's father!?!_

_No matter that you hate him - you're not a psychopath who can just hate his father and kill his mother like some twisted reflection of Oedipus..._

_The look in your eyes... such *pain* -_

_*Myfaultmyfaultmyfault*..._

_And then you're gone._

_And the house is deafeningly silent._

I storm down the street, hands in my pockets. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t care.

What if you leave? I don’t want to go back home, I _can’t_ -

Well, I can get back into the house, even if it’s locked.

Anyway. I don’t want you to see me like this.

I’m _angry_.

Angry at you for voicing what’s been poisoning me for the last two years... that little seed of suspicion, growing and growing... watered with my hatred of my father.

And I have no way of knowing without confronting my father. And if I feel my suspicion is true, even if he doesn’t confess (which he wouldn’t, the fucking liar)... I don’t know how I could stop myself from beating him into oblivion. Possibly to death - I really think I could do it.

And then I’d have a screaming mother to contend with.

A broken-hearted gran...

Fuck. _FUCK_.

I break into a run, and head into the blackness of night. I need to smash something. Let’s see what I can find…

_I pace through the room. Think about going after you - but I don't know where you've gone and you run faster than me. I can't trace a tiger in the urban jungle._

_Mam always told me not to be *clever*. People hate it when you're too *clever* Jimmy... I know you're right, honey, but people don't always want to hear what's right..._

_And they didn't. So I stopped being clever to people - just to myself._

_But with you - I felt so at ease - and you seemed to love me being clever..._

_seemed to love me._

_And I got complacent, didn't I. I thought I could just be *myself*._

_People don't like me when I'm myself._

_How could I forget that..._

_Stupid, stupid Jimmy. And now you've chased away the only good thing you've encountered in years. Because you can't *have* good things. You kill them or chase them off._

_I look at my gear._

_At least it will dull the pain and quiet the thoughts._

Eventually I find a few big rocks... I carry them until I find a car park. Then I proceed to smash a few windshields. Feels good. I hear an alarm, shouting, running... I slip away, hide, throw my remaining rock as hard as I can in the opposite direction. I hear glass smash, another alarm, cursing from the direction of the running. I laugh softly and run away.

Feeling less consumed by rage. Better stick to vandalism - violence might get someone killed. Possibly me. And I need to get back to Jim.

...

Jim.

Fuck. I just left him... all alone...

I turn back, and start running.

_I lie on the bed, looking at the ceiling._

_How can a ceiling look so different? It was so beautiful last night, when I looked up at it lying in your arms. Nice little patterns that were pleasing to the eye._

_Now they're boring. Plain._

_The pain is still there, but it's less. Behind a sea wall, dulled._

_I'm not leaving._

_He said he'd come back._

_He's not._

_But I'll wait anyway._

I’m starting to panic as I run... what if he left? How will I find him again?? I don’t even know his last name!!! Fuck...

The door is still unlocked... I mount the steps two at a time, and tear into the bedroom. I stop when I see you - on the bed, pale, staring glassy-eyed. Oh... nono _no_... I throw myself at you, and nearly start sobbing when you blink slowly.

“Jim...” I say urgently, grasping your shoulders. “I’m here... I’m so sorry... please be alright...” I plead.

_You're back._

_You're back?_

_You're back and you're crying. Nonono, Seb, don't cry..._

_"Don't cry... I'm fine, Sebbie, I'm fine -"_

I sag against you, squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck...” I say in a wavering voice. “I’m sorry I left, I just - didn’t know what I was capable of. I’m so sorry...” I bury my face in your neck, feeling tears leak onto your skin.

_"Sebastian..." *you're back* "Don't cry my sweet... it's alright, it's fine... I didn't mean to upset you - I'm sorry..."_

_I'm stroking your hair, smelling the top of your head - you're really here; it's really you..._

_"Are you alright?"_

Am _I_ alright?? Oh - I was upset, wasn’t I. But I don’t want to think about why - I know it will upset me again when I do. At the moment it’s less important to me than you.

“Don’t worry about me,” I murmur. “I just want you to be alright. I _need_ you to be alright. I don’t - want you to take that shit any more,” I say, stumbling over my words. Did I just tell someone what to do? Me, Mr ‘better to burn out than to fade away’??

“Please, I couldn’t bear something happening to you,” I tighten my arms around you, shivering and feeling your small fragile body against mine.

_I chuckle, half unbelieving, half bitter._

_"You don't want me to take that shit any more? Do you think I *want* to take that shit? Want to dull my mind? I wouldn't do it if I didn't need it - but the pain - it's too much, Sebastian. I can't keep going if I don't blunt the edges occasionally._

_And I'm smart about it. I know - I know all junkies say that, but I'm more intelligent than your average junkie - or even your average sober person. I know the chemistry, I know how it works, I know how to stay safe. I'm not going to OD or share my works and get AIDS or anything -"_

_Irritation makes place for softness._

_"It's sweet of you to worry..."_

I pull back in frustration. “I just- I can’t-“ I rake my hands through my hair. “How am I supposed to leave you like this, Jim? In so much pain that you need heroin? With no one looking out for you, and living with junkies? Don’t you know I’ll be out of my mind with worry?”

I gather you up against me again, sniffling. “I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper. “Feel this way and leave you all alone? How will I know you’re alright??”

_I don't know -_

_*I don't KNOW*..._

_And I *won't* be alright - not without you..._

_"Don't leave me then..."_


	12. Here Comes Your Man

Your words and your voice pull on my heartstrings, and I choke back a sob.

As I hold onto you for dear life, my mind races. _Don’t leave you?_ What would that mean? Not finishing school? Not returning home with my parents?? A strange feeling of lightness floats through me.

I’d have to find a job, find a flat. I don’t get my trust fund until I’m 25, but I don’t care. I have some money - I don’t care what I do for work, I’d find something... I just can’t go through the motions of my stupid life, knowing you’re out there, alone, at risk...

“I won’t,” I murmur against your ear.

_You won't..._

_Of course you will, but for now, now the pain is numbed, and the world is soft, and warm, and full of Sebastian, it's good._

_Sebastian under my fingers, Sebastian in my nose, Sebastian in my ears._

_I roll over, reach out - it seems so far, but then suddenly my arms reach you and I pull you closer, put my leg over you._

_"I missed you."_

I let out a shaky sigh. “I missed you, too...” I breathe into your hair.

I pull back to kiss your lips, stare into half-closed eyes - you’re so beautiful, downright otherworldly. And I am completely, utterly under your spell.

“I’m all yours, Jim,” I whisper, and close my eyes.

_"Mine... my Sebastian, my sweet Sebastian..."_

_I stroke your hair, and we lie there, for hours or minutes, it's hard to say. I think you have fallen asleep, and I whisper to you, whisper of love, of forever, of together, of words that are impossible and forbidden, but they feel so good to whisper into the golden hair..._

God... to lie here in your arms, hearing you whisper these things to me - feels so incredibly blissful, I forget about all the obstacles we face, all the shit we have to deal with... all there is in this moment is you and me -

I smile as you whisper to me, and dream of a world where we can be together and free - for always... my dark angel, my beautiful king, my Jim...

_Suddenly I see your eyes open and look up at me with a blissful smile._

_"Oh - I thought you were asleep," I whisper, and blush, making you chuckle. You reach up, pull me close, kiss my nose, my cheek, my mouth, whispering things in return - words of affection, of devotion and care, and they melt away every bit of me, my armour and my skin and my bones and sinews and muscles and veins until all that's left is my heart which is swelling, touched by you directly, and it's too much, man was not meant to experience this, this is something reserved for gods, but somehow I'm not smit, though definitely smitten._

_I look at you with what must be rapturous attention._

“So you know I’m yours...” I say and kiss your lips. “I was a goner from the moment you tried to steal my wallet - I just didn’t know it yet.”

You beam at me, eyes glowing. God - this is everything I need in life. I can give up the rest if -

“Jim... I need to hear it from you - are you mine?” I ask softly, stroking your face.

_Are you mine._

_What??_

_My first thought is - of course I am yours... what else could I be?_

_My second thought, no - what about Georgie... but you're an asset there, can help me find him, can protect me, can maybe find a job and I'll kick the smack and the three of us make a fucked-up but loving family..._

_My third thought, dark, unwelcome, but seeping in around the edges: You don't want me Sebastian... I'm damaged goods, so damaged you have no idea... and I can never tell you. It wouldn't be fair, landing you with something so rotten, it can only hurt you in the end. Like rescuing an animal only to find out it's infected you with rabies._

_Oh Sebastian..._

_You're looking at me with such big questioning eyes, having just given yourself to me, and I don't deserve you Sebastian, but maybe, maybe you can redeem me; if someone like you wants me, maybe I can suppress the poison inside, be the person you see in me._

_I open my mouth, lick my lips._

_"I'm yours, Sebastian... if you want me - I am yours..."_

I watch you consider my question. Why - is this - taking so long? Was it just heroin-delirium that made you tell me not to leave? I’m going to have to ask you again when you’re not fucked up... nevertheless, my heart is feeling like it’s being squeezed by a cold fist as I stare into your face.

And then - you say it...

“If I want you?” I ask in disbelief. My hands curl around your shoulders.

“Jim... You’re _all_ I want...” I breathe, before leaning in to kiss you reverently.

_Oh my sweet sweet Sebastian, you don't know..._

_But I'll try. I'll try for you._

_"I've never met anyone like you..." I whisper when we stop kissing. "You sure you're not an angel, sent down to save an errant Catholic? We'd make a lovely Christmas film... well except for the hot sex part..."_

I gaze at you with half-closed eyes, and smile adoringly. “Oh. I’m no angel... trust me,” I purr, and nip your bottom lip. “I’m just powerless against your many charms...”

_"What charms," I huff, stroking your temple. "You're so unimaginably beautiful... and everyone sees that. Girls throw themselves at you wherever you go... what do you see in scrawny little me?"_

“It’s so easy to find this kind of look appealing, though...” I muse, gesturing at myself.

“Your attractiveness is...bewitching...” I stare at you in awe. You look dubious, and I shake my head in disbelief. “You don’t see it? It’s like a spell of enchantment, where if you look for too long you’re caught in it. Maybe people sense that and look away. Must make it easier to get away with shit? Stealing wallets and the like?” I suggest. “And... I get the feeling that it’s just going to keep growing with you... like you’ll be able to either mesmerize people or slip away unnoticed, depending on what you want...”

_I guess..._

_I mean, you're kind of right - I can make myself hard to notice - years of practice with my beloved family. And I can make an impression as well - I remember Stu's face this afternoon, Vinny pissing himself -_

_\- but it's rarely a positive impression._

_Trust you to be contrary to the rest of the world..._

_"You're unique, Sebastian Moran..."_

“Yeah?” I consider this. “Well, that would explain why I don’t fit in anywhere... “

I move closer and sigh as you curl around me more tightly. “Except with you,” I amend, and press a kiss against your forehead.

_"You fit perfectly..." I purr. "That shoulder? That was specifically moulded to accommodate my head. The way your arm bends creates the perfect place to hold me. And your chest..." I pull myself even closer to you, so I can feel both our hearts beating._

We’re unbelievably close now, it seems there’s barely any space between us...

“Mmm. I must have been made with you in mind...” I murmur, utterly blissed out.

Then an odd feeling trickles through me. Huh. What’s that about.

I want to focus on _Jim_... our hearts being together in sync... being happier than I ever –

Now the feeling is burrowing through me insistently. What the fuck...?

Wait. Did I ever tell you my surname...? No, I specifically didn’t - because even when you guessed about my aristocratic background, I didn’t want you to associate me with my family name... not that you would be familiar with any Lords... would you??

“Jim...” I say slowly. “How on earth did you know my name?”

_What? You told me you were Sebastian -_

_Oh._

_Wait._

_Fuck. Jimmy. *Sloppy*._

_"I, eh. I... looked you up," I reply, sheepishly. "I looked in the Who's Who. Your dad's in there, of course. As is the fact that he has a son born in 1971 named Sebastian."_

Looked me up? Seriously??

“So all this time...” I say slowly. “While I was trying to keep you from guessing my background... you already knew exactly who I was??”

Your sheepish look is a _dor_ able... there’s also some concern in your eyes. Are you worried I’ll be angry again?

“You little shit,” I snigger and give you an indulgent smile. “Guess that means I can’t keep anything from you, hmmm?”

_"Much safer not to..." I smile. "Evil geniuses always find out what they want to know... I was just curious - no. I was intrigued..."_

_I move my finger along your jawline, stroke your lower lip._

_"You can say about the aristocracy what you like, but once every so often they produce a gorgeous specimen..."_

_I move my finger along your nose. "Does it hurt?"_

My eyes are fixed on you as you touch me admiringly. God, I’ll never get enough of this...

I shrug as you touch my nose. “Nothing terrible. I’ve been through worse...”

_I bet you have... and I'll kill them all..._

_No you won't, Jimmy. You're going to try to be good, remember? Be a good boy for Sebbie..._

_I almost chuckle. Good thing Sebbie likes bad boys._

_"Are you - alright now?"_

_Do I bring it up again? Why you ran away? Will that upset you again? But if I don't, I'll seem uncaring. And I need to know how you are feeling..._

Alright? _Oh_.

A hot surge of emotion starts to flare and I tamp down on it.

“Fine,” I mutter, clenching my jaw. “I - can’t-“

I shake my head, trying to control my breathing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You’re watching me closely, your eyes so big and black... I take your hand. “It’s not you...” I say quietly. “I just can’t go there.”

Do you understand?

_"That's fine -"_

_There's so many things I can't talk about -_

_"That's fine, Seb, I just wanted you to - know that you - can, if you want to."_

_See? Being a good person. Giving a person space to talk, if he wants to, or not, if he doesn't._

_You can do this Jimmy. Just keep a close eye on what you do. Don't get lazy._

_"I'm sorry I upset you."_

_*And* apologizing! I'm on a roll!_

What can I say to that? It's alright?? You _did_ upset me... I still don't understand what happened; it's like it's surrounded by a dark fog and I can't see it clearly.

But I don't want it to come between us. You mean too much.

"It's - nothing to do with you," I murmur, closing my eyes. I stroke your hand, and bring it to my lips. "Don't worry about it. It's - in the past." I swallow hard.

I wish I'd never mentioned it; I don't know why I did!! I haven't breathed a word about it, barely allowed myself to _think_ about it - until I met you.

Well, it's going back underground - buried in a minefield, surrounded by barbed wire. Tonight could have gone _so much worse_ , I'm just lucky I was able to bring my focus back to you. And that's where it will stay...

"I want to focus on the here and now. Entirely on _you_..." I turn your hand over and bring my lips to your palm. "If that suits you, Majesty..." I breathe, looking up at you and kissing your palm.

_You're burying it. You have your own bunker, I assume - probably less nuclear-proof than mine, as things already came out when we were getting a bit close, but still, there's a place where things will stay if they're not too provoked._

_And I'm fine with that. I don't really want to know too much about a boy you loved before me and how sad you were when he died. Or about your lowlife father - I get murderous enough when I think about him –_

_\- I *could* make it look like an accident –_

_*NO* Jimmy. Good boys don't murder their lover's father to make him feel better. He's probably going to blame himself and feel worse, feel guilty about his mam and everyone - no. Just be nice to *him*. Being nice to someone can make them feel better than being nasty to someone they hate, did you know that?_

_"I'm happy with that..." I smile, looking into your eyes, "my loyal Knight..."_

For a moment, you have a faraway look in your eye - it happens with some frequency, and I find it fascinating every time. What are you thinking about? What's being scrawled on the whiteboard in your mind?

I suspect it's not something to be seen by other eyes, and I'm fine with that - I just feel honoured to be so close to you as you think the thoughts that make you who you are.

I smile back at you as you make your royal proclamation.

"Mmm... God save the king," I say seductively. "Is that appropriate? Or should it be something more diabolical?" I kiss one of your fingertips, and slip it into my mouth.

_"God has given up on us long ago... we're going to have to do our own saving, I'm afraid."_

_You're sexy, but I'm lazy. Feeling good just lying here. But after what you've gone through - do you need to blow off steam?_

_I'll leave it to you to take the lead, see what happens, if you want to just cuddle, or - more._

_I'll save you_ , I find myself thinking dreamily.

 _Fuck's sake Moran_ , I chide myself - he's not a bedraggled kitten mewing at your doorstep.

No - he's a dark faerie king who's allowing a human to worship him, I think with pleasure. And he's not actively responding to my advances - beyond enjoying them in the moment. I suppose he's not accustomed to a perpetually randy beast sniffing at him, I think with amusement.

"Hmm... I lost hope in saving myself a long time ago. But I'd sure as hell do it if it meant keeping you safe..." I murmur. "So. Is this the beginning of the Illicit Criminal Adventures of Tiger and - Kitten?" I ask playfully and nip your neck.

_Oh you want to save me you're too sweet my Sebbie my Tiger my Knight my-_

_"*Kitten?!*" I exclaim, pulling back. You're grinning broadly, a mischievous glint in your eyes._

_"I'm a *kitten* now am I? Small and mewling and helpless? Do you need another love tap on your nose?" I hiss and swipe in a kittenish manner._

I snigger. “Oh come now, you adorable little- _hey_ “ I protest as I feel two sets of nails dig into my arms. “This behaviour is not helping your cause, Kitten...” I chide, and burst out laughing at your expression.

_"You get to be a Tiger! Majestic, grand, beautiful, lethal. And in return I'm a *kitten*. You suck at nicknames, Tiger. Nah, The Illicit Criminal Adventures of the King and His Tiger sounds much better."_

_I nod firmly._

I hold up my hands placatingly. “My deepest apologies to my sovereign...” I say, bowing my head with a hand on my chest. “‘The King and His Tiger’ is of course more fitting,” I say, fighting to stop a smile from breaking free. When I succeed (barely), I look up to see a scowling Kitten staring at me suspiciously.

“What? I meant it!” I protest, which then strikes me as a patently ridiculous thing for a knight to say to a king, and then I can’t stop my lips from twitching ever so slightly. “The King is of course entitled to punish his knight for unknightly behaviour at any time,” I say in a _very_ gentlemanly manner, and look at the ceiling innocently.

_"And there you are lucky - kingly punishments are much easier to bear than kittenish punishments, which would probably consist of cutting open your face with razor-sharp claws and peeing in your bed..."_

_I look at you, suspiciously - "You're still thinking of me as a kitten, aren't you? Looking like I'm the *cutest* thing you've ever seen even as I'm threatening to cut you open..."_

“How did you manage to make such a threat sound so... delicious?” I murmur, neatly sidestepping your accusation. I gaze into your black eyes, utterly mesmerized.

Fuck, you’re hot...

_Suddenly the fire between us blazes up again. You are *quite* a lustful character, aren't you, Sebastian?_

_We kiss and grope and I pull your clothes off you, skin against skin and wherever we touch a patch of fire remains, smouldering and glowing until my entire body is lit up._

You’ve climbed onto me; your hands are encircling my wrists and it feels so good to be in your clutches. I tilt my hips and press my cock against yours.

“Fuck,” I moan, as you bite my neck and lust sweeps through me like wildfire. “What do you want -“ (Kitten) “- my King?” I murmur, my wrists flexing under your grip.

_"I want to hear you moan my name..." I whisper. "How do you wish to be brought to moaning, my Knight?"_

I still feel like I can’t ask to fuck you. I’m not sure why. It was mainly a strong feeling from when we first got together - a bit less so now, but it still feels like a line that shouldn’t be crossed? Anyway, everything we’ve done has felt _fucking amazing_...

“Well, if you desire moaning - I can’t get enough of being taken by you...” I murmur, already feeling heat in my limbs as your hands tighten against my skin. “being possessed by my King... tied up and powerless...” My head falls to one side, and I breathe in deeply.

_I feel my throat tighten at that, my heart speed up, my breath grow shallow. Those words - coming from *you* -_

_"As my Knight wishes, so it shall be..." I murmur in your ear. "I'll tie you down, so you are unable to move, at my mercy... and then I will take my pleasure from you... hard."_

_You groan softly, your eyes flutter shut._

God... the more we do together, the more we feel like one being.

And it feels _so right..._

I would normally be shouting at myself to not be an idiot and that it’s _dangerous_ to feel this way...

But you asked me not to leave you, and so I can’t - not if you’re at risk of any danger, which _you are_. But now you’ll have your loyal knight at your side.

And sometimes underneath you - or in front of you on my knees.

I can’t wait to see which it will be.

“God, yes... I want to be at your mercy, my King,“ I say in a low, rough voice. “Tied down… taken hard... all for your pleasure...”

_Very thoughtless of the Fitzsimonses to have a solid wooden headboard instead of a nice iron frame I could tie my Tiger Knight to._

_I get up, gather the belts that are lying next to the bed. "Sit up on your knees, my love."_

_What did I just say?!_

_It just - sounded so natural - so -_

_I look at you - how do you respond? Is it too much? Does it break the dominance spell?_

I eye you intently as you pick up the belts I’ve come to know so well from being on their receiving end - mmm. Here we go again...

My _love??_

My mind blanks out for a moment.

God... you really did mean it, didn’t you.

I realize I’m beaming at you. Well, that’s an answer in itself...

I don’t know if I should use a term of endearment if I’m being submissive, though...

“As you wish... Sir,” I breathe.

If you’ve seen the Princess Bride - you’ll know exactly what that means...

I sit up as ordered and gaze at you adoringly.

_Your face lights up when you look at me - you look so happy, serene, magnificent - my perfect Knight out of armour –_

_'As you wish' - What Westley used to say to Buttercup in the book I used to read to Georgie - he loved it, as did I. I had a bit of a crush on Westley... and here he is, even more gorgeous than I imagined him, in my bed, on his knees, ready to do as I wish..._

_*god* -_

_I swallow, lift up one of the belts, say, "Move your wrists together." My voice is hoarse._

_The atmosphere charges up as I bind your wrists closely. "Kneel over the side of the bed," I nod, and you do, knees on the floor, body stretched out across the bed, arms stretched before you. I attach another belt to the one around your wrists, then add another one to that, which I tie around the edge of the base frame._

_There. Bound, bent, bruised, and completely at my mercy..._

_I feel ten miles high._

God, there’s something that comes over you when you’re in a position of power... it seems so - ageless and infinite.

It’s why I was able to get over the initial shock of you being 14. I get what you said about it just being a number - ‘17’ doesn’t mean anything, either. Did I not endure something at 15 more brutal and devastating than many people have at 25? 45? In a lifetime?

And even though I don’t know what you’ve gone through, I know it’s the same for you - I’m sure that’s partly why our bond is so intense. I suspect you’ve also lived through something unspeakable...

So now here you are - you’ve survived, but your energy is so much darker because of it. I can see it in your eyes every time they gleam at me like something from an abyss. And I crave that darkness, fuck me I do...

So as you’re issuing orders, binding me up, leaving me naked and helpless on my knees before you - my body is trembling with anticipation, my breath is quickening, and my cock is hard against my abdomen. I squirm, longing for you to take me however you desire.

_I stroke your beautiful body, marked by me, which only adds to its attractiveness. My hand moves over your bottom, feeling the calloused ridges of the blotches I left earlier. I lift my hand, slap it down on the spot, hearing you sigh and seeing you relax further into submission. I slap both buttocks a couple of times, just to rekindle the fire, and I hear a soft moan, see you grind against the edge of the bed._

_My love, my beautiful knight, my tiger..._

_You can't stay, I know that, but I'm suppressing that thought hard, because tonight you are mine, and you will remain mine always, wherever you go, whatever you do... this will never fade away._

_I put on a condom, lube both of us up, and kneel behind you. You spread your knees wider, grasp the bedclothes as I sit for a second and savour the view. This gorgeous boy, almost a man, tied, whipped, kneeling, offering himself up to me... for me..._

_I position myself and push in._

No one has ever had this effect on me... I’m actually quivering as you touch me, smack my bottom... no one who knows me would believe it. They know me as Basher, the snarky, hard-drinking, slutty badass, always on the edge of violence - rebelling against his family, against his very name...

no one would believe how undone I am by being under your power, being your knight - or that it’s _all I want_ -

My breathing is shaky as you prepare us both. I want you so much - every time you fuck me I just want you more. Finally I feel your cock prodding against my opening, and I inhale with anticipation - and then you’re pushing inside me, god, so good, please, take me, take all of me -

There’s a few moments of moving forward and waiting and adjusting and then -

“Oh god,” I groan as you bury yourself to the hilt inside me. “ _God_... I love how you fuck me!”

_"Yeah?" I ask, lightheaded with the sensation. "Good - because I *love* fucking you..." I move back, push back in, shiver with delight - "- and I plan to do it a *lot*..."_

_You feel so amazingly good... nothing has ever compared to this, well - the heroin rush maybe, but this is healthier -_

_I pull back, push back inside, and every time I do it's like I enter further into a forbidden garden that was always locked off to me before, which I suspected existed but knew was reserved for other people... the normal, the privileged. People who weren't psychopaths._

_With a shock, I realize I'm fucking the man I love._

_I was never supposed to love. I can't love. And I don't usually get to fuck._

_The two combined is - impossible. And impossibly good._

_I start slow, but deep and hard, until your sounds are so unworldly I can't restrain myself any more, and release the reins - faster –_

God, how you fuck - so hard and deep, like you’re claiming me further with every stroke. And trussed up as I am, all I can do is take it, and I do with a pleasure that’s dizzying - drawing out gasps and groans from me that make it sounds like I’m tortured with pleasure - which in a way I am, my cock shoved against the mattress, as you drive harder into me - oh god - fuck - please -

I feel you shivering against me and then your spasms of pleasure as you release -

And I’m so close- Jim –

_I dig my fingers into your hips as I shudder through my pleasure, producing a sound I've never heard myself make - it's almost a mewl, good god, *don't* give him more ammo to call you kitten Jim..._

_but it's so. fucking. gooooood..._

_I really am never ever going to let you go. I don't care if it's impossible. I eat the impossible for breakfast. With you nothing is impossible._

_I lean on your back, breathing hard, pressing little kisses onto your shoulder in between catching my breath._

I’m feeling so high it’s like I’m flying, listening to your sounds (aww), feeling you shaking as you pant and rest against my back.

You’re growing softer which means you’ll be withdrawing from my body soon - I feel a flare of panic at the thought - no, don’t leave! _Not yet!_ \- but I manage to breathe my way through it. Oh god, this is - well - I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I already know there’s no coming back from this.

I’d be furious with myself but - I’ve never been so madly in love, I realize with a start. With the beautiful guy currently still inside me and kissing my shoulder. A dazed, dreamy smile spreads across my face.

“Mmn... that was so hot,” I purr. “Fuck, you’re amazing, Jim...”

_"You're the amazing one..." I purr, not really capable of anything more original._

_I'm shrinking and slide out, tie up the condom and miss the wastepaper basket. Oh well._

_Carefully I nudge you up on the bed and make you roll over, so I have access to that delectable cock, while you're still bound - you seem to enjoy being tied up and well, I can't complain..._

_I lick my lips and get to work._

Within moments, I’m on the bed and you’re blowing me spectacularly...

oh -

God -

fuck -

 _me_ -

“Jim,” I moan. _“Jim!”_

I come in violent spasms, crying out and gasping.

“Oh – god -,” I whisper, as aftershocks continue to move through my body. “So good, baby...”

_I shuffle up, licking my lips, watching my beautiful undone knight. Still tied, your arms above your head, your eyes large and staring at me full of bliss... I will forgive you calling me *baby* for now. But don't make a habit of it._

_I stroke your face and your hair, and you lean into me, like a cat enjoying pettings. "My lovely Tiger Knight..." I smile, then untie your hands, which immediately come around me and pull me close._

As soon as you free me, all I want to do is hold you against me. I turn my head and smile at you adoringly.

"Your name is perfect for moaning..." I murmur, and stroke back the hair that's fallen onto your forehead. "I hope it was to your liking... my King..."

_It's been recorded in the sound library of the mind map, don't you worry... I will be able to play it whenever I long for a moment of bliss._

_Postcoital, momentarily the fear threatens to come up again - fear that this can't last, you will leave, I will be left alone, and for having had this be so much more alone than I was before... but I'm feeling tired and lazy and full of endorphins enough to suppress it, for now, and just snuggle close to you. If I keep holding on to you you can never go._

_"I wonder how Stu and Victoria are getting on..." I smile._

I snort. "Christ knows... Hopefully they've intrigued each other and aren't ready to kill each other quite yet..."

_"Probably too busy shagging to kill each other. Girls always come back for more with Stu, so I hope she's not getting bored. And if he is - well, he knows he owes me a favour, so he better keep his game up." I giggle at the image of an exhausted Stu desperately trying to satisfy an insatiable girl in a tight dress and fishnet stockings, but I'm sure he's up to the task._

_"I completely forgot to light the candles," I realize. "I put candles around the room to make it look nice..."_

"Aww..." I grin at you. "So sweet. There's always next time. We can be all romantic as we..." I pull your face towards mine and kiss your lips fervently. "...cuddle...?" I say with a smirk.

_"Yes. Cuddle. I like cuddles," I say as I do just that. I'm getting cold, so move us into a position where I can pull the duvet over us._

_"I'm always so cold... but you make me feel warm," I murmur into the twilight of the space between my face, the blanket, and your chest._

I revel in the feeling of your skin as you stretch out against me. "Another night with me to keep you warm," I murmur and kiss your shoulder.

"Shit... I was going to suggest we nip by a shop to pick up stuff for breakfast... but then... we got carried away," I nuzzle your neck. "I can't help myself around you..."

_"I picked some up earlier today," I say. "Eggs and stuff... I love you making me breakfast."_

_It's nice here, under the blankets, in your arms. It's warm, and everything smells of Sebastian._

I beam at you. “Clever thing. That works out nicely then - since I love making breakfast for you...”

_You're letting in the light and the cold air, but it's alright, because you're also letting in your face, which is breathtakingly beautiful. I nuzzle up - I'm quite warm now - and resume looking at it. There's so many little bits that are worth exploring - your eyes are golden green now, your mouth pink, your lips thin and softly smiling. I run my finger through the short hairs of your stubble, rub them back and forth, try to catch them under my nail._

God, how you look at me takes my breath away. I didn’t think anyone would look at me like that ever again...

and the fact that it’s _you_ \- you with your elfin features, your mysterious smile... and those mesmerizing eyes. It’s like they have a gravitational pull on me... I don’t know how I could ever pull away...

“I can see you tomorrow, right Jim?” I whisper, revelling in the feeling of your fingers on my face.

_Tomorrow._

_I don't want to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow is light and thoughts and absence, and I don't want any of those things. But if I have to have them, then I do want a Sebastian at the end._

_"I'd love that..."_

_If I am careful with the money, it should last._

_Shit. If you stay -_

_I'll do more break-ins. It's riskier, but -_

_But you'll hear from the others -_

_I'll have to find us a new place. I don't want you to -_

_\- know I'm a prostitute. Not that there's anything wrong with it - but - I just don't want you to know._

_Maybe if you stay, and I have these chemicals in my brain - and I can finish that bunker to lock up the old bad feelings - I bet I could kick the smack, and then we'd just need a simple job each, until we've found Georgie, and then we get to England, put Georgie in school, maybe one of us could get a scholarship for a university, while the other works, and then vice versa, and then we'll all live near each other and Georgie will get married and have nice kids and they'll love Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Seb..._

_I drift off picturing sunlit lawns with kids playing and you, me, and Georgie smiling, sipping a beer, toasting the good life..._

I don’t know if it’s the lateness of the hour and the fuzziness of my brain after such mind-blowing sex - but it looks like a shadow crosses your face. When will you share with me what you’re facing in your life? I could help you...

you’re silent for a long moment, and I’m about to demand what’s wrong when you tell me _yes_ , and then that’s all I can think of. Tomorrow is another day and maybe you’ll open up to me... but at the very least I will see you and kiss you and hold you. And you did say I could expect to be fucked by you a lot... I smile and open my mouth to speak, to tell you how much I’m looking forward to it - all of it. But your breathing has changed and you’re clearly drifting off.

“I love you Jim,” I whisper, afraid the words will shatter this peaceful tableau. They don’t - you simply murmur in your sleep. I kiss your cheek reverently. Then I close my eyes and listen to you breathe.

_I'm floating through gardens and I hear words - 'I love you Jim' -_

_'I love you Jim'_

_No one has ever said that..._

_Only Mam and Georgie have ever loved me, and they called me Jimmy - and that fits, that's right, because I was small then, a boy - but now I'm Jim, a man, who has a man lover, and together we will conquer the world…_

_I dream disjointed dreams where I find Georgie but keep losing him on public transport, and I run around Connolly station trying to get to the train he's in on time but the doors close just before me and I try to jump onto the train, holding on to something, anything, so I can hang from it, but I fall under the wheels -_

_I wake up gasping, looking around in alarm - "Georgie?"_

Something’s wrong - I’m battling a dragon, but that’s not the problem - a voice over the horizon. Someone needs my help. Not just someone- _Jim_.

I stop fighting and retreat with my sword. Glance back at the dragon who looks perplexed. Then break into a run -

And wake up to see you sitting upright and gasping - Georgie. Your brother?

“Jim -“ I murmur. “You were dreaming... you’re safe...”

Carefully I reach out to stroke your shoulder.

_Heart racing -_

_Shivers -_

_A voice? A hand?_

_not Georgie_

_oh yes -_

_Sebastian._

_I rub my eyes, force my voice to steady. "Sorry I woke you... I dreamed - well, yeah, you said."_

_Your hand stroking me. I lean into it. The pounding of my heart is getting calmer._

_I shiver, and you wrap your warm body around mine, rub my arms and shoulders, breathe into my neck. The shivers subside, and I lie down. The room doesn't spin. I take a deep breath. You smell of sleep and beer and cigarettes and Sebastian._

_I sigh, put my head into your chest, enjoying the strong arm around me, the feel of your smooth skin, the warmth of our small safe world under the blankets, where the cold big world outside seems far away._

_Normally when I wake up from nightmares in which I die my heart races and I shiver for at least an hour, unless I can take some smack._

_But you are so warm and soothing..._

I know, Jim... I know the nightmares that reach in and squeeze your heart until you scream in agony... before tearing that poor heart out of your chest and holding it in front of your face laughing - before throwing it in a metal box, chaining it up, and dropping it into the cold, dark sea...

I don’t know what your nightmares are comprised of, but I know the aftermath - the shaking, the terror and despair -

You won’t go through that alone - not while I’m here to shield you from the storm.

I hold you tight as the last of the shivers dissipate.

“Better?” I whisper and kiss your forehead.

_"Much better," I smile. "I want you in my bed always - a tiger a day keeps the nightmares at bay..."_

_You chuckle, a warm, happy sound that reverberates in your chest._

_You're stroking my hair, so sweetly, so gently, like I am that kitten you say I am, which I'm *not*, but I do enjoy this..._

_"Sorry I woke you Sebastian... thanks for being so sweet."_

_Look at me! Apologizing *and* thanking! I'm going to be *such* a good person..._

_I snuggle my cold foot between your calves, and drift off back into the blackness, which looks warm and inviting rather than cold and threatening._

I’m relieved when you fall back asleep again, and watch over you for a while to make sure there are no more nightmares.

Suddenly I’m awake - whoops, must have drifted off. I look at your face, deep in slumber. Well, you seem peaceful enough...

I slip out of bed carefully, and throw on a stunning ensemble of underpants, socks, and gloves. Then I sneak down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. If I can do this without too much noise, maybe I can serve you breakfast in bed like I pictured...

Minutes later, I’m frying up the makings of a full English, bread is toasting, and coffee is brewing... while I softly sing a Ramones song, changing lyrics as appropriate:

_Do you love me, babe?_

_What do you say?_

_Do you love me, babe?_

_What can I say?_

_Because I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Hey, little Kitten_

_I wanna be your boyfriend..._

_Sweet little Kitten_

_I wanna be your boyfriend..._

_I wake up smelling breakfast._

_*Sebastian?*_

_You're gone - slight panic - no - no of course, you're making breakfast. For me._

_I smile. I can hear you in the kitchen, trying to be quiet - oh you sweet thing -_

_My heart swells. My lover, making me breakfast - so utterly domestic -_

_\- alright, it's in someone else's house, that we technically broke into, which is not *quite* a staple of romcoms, but beggars can't be choosers._

_Do you want to bring me breakfast in bed? Is that why you are being so careful not to wake me up?_

_*Or - are you going to leave quietly after you've had your breakfast?!*_

_Don't be silly Jim - why would he do that?? If he were going to sneak out on you, he would hardly stop to make *breakfast*, would he. You paranoid idiot._

_I lie back. This gives me a chance to quickly shoot up - just a little, just so I don't get sick - I'm not actually in pain. Other painkilling chemicals, free without prescription, bouncing through my brain. Thank you Sebbie..._

_I quickly line up my gear. I want to be done when you come up._

I hum to myself as I finish making breakfast, and plating it. Then I find a posh silver tray to arrange everything. I would have liked to have put a rose on it, but would you have found that too much? Anyway, no flowers so it’s moot.

I climb up the stairs carefully, and peek through the doorway from around the corner. Still sleeping?

I creep into the room and lay the tray on the bed. Then I sit down next to you smiling, and gently touch your shoulder. “Jim...” I call out. “Breakfast time...”

_I shoot up, just a little, and am lying back in bed when you come up. You sneak in so quietly, touch me, and call my name - so sweetly -_

_I turn up to you, smiling. You look stunning..._

_I switch on the light, look at the breakfast. Oh my - hash browns, beans, sausages, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, toast -_

_"Wow, Tiger," I grin. "I fear I am only one King, not an entire royal court - but I'll do my very best to do you justice; it does look delicious..."_

_I scoot up, lift one of the plates from the silver tray, set it on my lap, cut the end of a sausage, blow on it, and put it in my mouth._

_"Delicious..."_

My heart melts as I see your eyes open... and then take in the feast I’ve brought you. Too much? Well, I’m sure I can manage to finish off whatever you can’t...

I sit and watch you take the first bite, my heart absolutely filling up. What is it about watching you eat? No one’s been looking out for you for god knows how long, and it shows. I want to be that person, I think to myself as I force myself to take a bite of sausage. I can’t very well just sit and watch you the entire time you eat, can I. Well, I _could_... but I think you’d definitely have words with me about that.

God, the thought of you cheerfully telling me off - I feel so rapturous at the thought, it’s all I can do to keep cramming food in my mouth... somehow I manage.

“Glad you’re enjoying it, Kitten,” I say with a wink.

_I put down the fork that was on its way to my mouth._

_"Don't you *dare*, Sebastian..." I growl threateningly, but I can't suppress a smile. You have a nickname for me... a sweet nickname... a term of endearment._

_Just - *Kitten?* Really??_

“Sorry-“ (Kitten) “-Jim,” I say with a smirk, and take a bite of toast.

_"I can still hear it if you only say it in your head," I pout. "Can't I be - a panther, or - a spider - except the males are usually useless... or... a raven! Extremely intelligent, playful, solitary..."_

_One look at your face tells me that Kitten I am and Kitten I shall remain, if I live to be one hundred and grow taller than you, which is unlikely._

I consider this doubtfully as I munch a rasher of bacon. I can’t see calling you Panther, or Spider... Raven is fitting, but it doesn’t work as a pet name.

“Hmm... I’ll think of something,” I assure you, and lean in to kiss you.

“Until then, it will have to be my King, if that pleases Your Majesty...” I murmur as I caress your hair.

_Mollified, I nod. "That will do nicely, my Tiger Knight," I smile benevolently._

_The food is great - you really are a good cook. It's also more than I've eaten in... well, for ever._

_I eat until I can't possibly squeeze any more in, and admit defeat. "I've done my best... and I had some of everything, and it's *delicious*..."_

I wheedle with you to eat a bit more and I’m satisfied when you crunch one more rasher of bacon rather pointedly.

Then with a grin I scrape the remains of your breakfast onto mine, and get to work finishing the lot. You stare at me in fascination - I guess I’m not the only one who enjoys watching my love eating.

 _My love_ , I think, my heart singing.

“Mmm,” I say, as I have the last bite. “Why don’t you relax while I clean up the kitchen... do you want to watch telly or see if they have any films?”

_"I can't move any more. That's your ploy, is it? Defeating the evil genius in his lair by feeding him so much he is incapable of movement? Curse you and your wiles, you've tricked me..._

_I'd rather not go into the living room. The curtains are closed, but if someone comes close to the house to deliver the mail or something, they might notice the TV is on."_

_And I like this room. It's our room. You seem to move through the house with ease, being used to being fully welcome and entitled to wherever you are, but I prefer to stick to the safe space of this bedroom, which is ours, sorry Mr and Mrs Fitzsimons, what happened here between us is much more significant than anything you've ever undertaken, I'm sure._

_"Just throw me a book and pour me another coffee and I'll see whether I end up like Violet Beauregarde or am miraculously spared..."_

_You smile, pick up the pot, pour me some more coffee, add a sugar lump, and throw me a paperback, then take the remnants of our breakfast downstairs._

_I could get used to this... I'd have to exercise a lot more to avoid getting fat, but there's nothing more lovely than your boyfriend cooking you breakfast first thing in the morning..._

_Boyfriend?_

_Well - isn't that what he is?_

_*I* don't know!_

_We said we love each other - and we do - I mean - what other criteria are there?_

_Exclusivity? Longevity? Meeting the parents? Meeting other people as a couple?_

_Peripheral._

_Fine. Have your 'boyfriend', for as long as it lasts._

_I sigh. I did *not* want to think about that..._

_I pick up the book. 'Pet Sematary'. Oh why not..._

As I clean up, my heart glows at the thought of you upstairs reading cosily... and waiting for me. I realize I'm singing again - Jesus, how fucking domestic are you, Moran? As soon as you have a kitchen to swan around in and someone to cook for, you're finally happy? Fuck it, I haven't felt so good in years - I need this. And you need this, too.

_Big shake on the box car moving_

_Big shake to the land that's falling down_

_Is a wind makes a palm stop blowing_

_A *big, big stone fall* and break my crown!_

I shiver slightly at these words, but press on, louder than ever.

_There is a wait so long_

_You'll never wait so loooong_

_Here comes your man_

_Here comes your man_

_Here comes your *maaaan!*_

_Here comes your *maaaan!*_

When clean-up is finally done, I tear back up upstairs and throw myself at you. You yelp as your book goes flying, and you protest "Se _bast_ iaaahn!" in mock dismay which makes me positively giddy.

I give you an innocent grin. "Sorry," I murmur, and pull you into a kiss.

_I'm kind of getting into the story. Downstairs the most beautiful boy ever to walk the streets of Dublin is slaughtering some pop song, and I find myself smiling at the caterwauling - you sound happy. Those lines that I noticed in your face when I first saw you - they're still there, but you look overall much better._

_I wonder if it's the same for me? I don't often look in the mirror, and it's *way* too far to walk now, but next time I should see if I still am grey and pale and with spots and bags under my eyes. I can't be - how would the most beautiful boy ever to walk the streets of Dublin fall for some ugly spotty teen?_

_I hear the stairs being taken two steps at a time, and all of a sudden my book is gone and a grinning face takes its place - and kisses me._

_Oh._

_I missed that. We can't kiss when we sleep. I lie back and enjoy the feeling of your lips on mine, your mouth opening, that weird ritual of rubbing tongues against each other, utterly incomprehensible from the outside and so delicious and warm from the inside..._

_"Well. I wouldn't mind being woken like that every morning..." I say when you pull back._

“Mmm... It’d be positively blissful to cook for you and serenade you and interrupt whatever you’re doing that makes you look so - deadly - serious -“ I gently boop the slight creases in between your eyebrows and watch them disappear like magic. Then I reach across the bed and snag the book that’s teetering dangerously on the edge. “You dropped your book,” I say helpfully as I hand it to you. “How do you like it?”

_"Nooo, no serenades!" I exclaim in a panic. "My poor eardrums would self-destruct..."_

_You pout adorably._

_"The book's alright - a bit predictable..."_

_Do we have to have a talk?_

_Do we just go on like this?_

_I don't want to talk._

_I want to know what's happening._

_Ugh._

_"So..." I say._


	13. Puppy Love

One moment we’re being playful, and then - a _look_ comes over you.

“Sooo..?” I respond questioningly.

For a moment I think you’re going to ask me to leave so you can keep reading your book. But surely you wouldn’t prefer a predictable book to me? Or any book?

You stare at me solemnly and my heart slams in my chest.

Oh shit. _What’s happening._

You’re not - going to _break it off_ , are you??

No you _just said_ you’d like to be woken up by me every morning-

Well, you said _woken like that_ \- did I misread you??

My heart is racing. “Is something wrong?” I ask hesitantly.

_Wrong?_

_No -_

_I need to know - I need to plan -_

_I choose the coward's way out._

_"So... what are your plans for today?"_

Is that really what you were going to ask? Somehow I don’t think so...

“I -“ Shit, do I have another bloody dinner tonight? How the fuck am I supposed to go through with this farce, given what transpired between us since last night??

“Fuck, I think I’m supposed to see a play,” I groan.

My hands rake through my hair and I stare at you, dumbfounded. “I don’t - know what to do,” I say weakly. “It was already feeling ridiculous, and now - Jim, you may have just been high but- did you mean what you -“ I stop. How do I even ask this question? I’m 17, you’re 14!! What are we supposed to do, run away together?

“Because I still feel the same way... if that’s what you want... I realize it’s completely mental,” I stumble over my words and laugh, feeling like I’ve gone mad. “But I meant every word...”

_Shit, you're seeing through me like we've been married for years._

_But what you're saying -_

_You'd actually consider? Staying??_

_No - you're mad -_

_"Sebastian - don't -"_

_*I want him to stay.*_

_You can't - he's got a golden future ahead of him, you're ruining his life -_

_*Want him!*_

_Stop fucking being selfish for a second Moriarty! I thought you were going to try to be a *good person*?_

_*For Sebastian, yes! No fecking use if he's gone, is it?!*_

_He's going to realize what he's given up... he's going to resent you for it... both living in squalor when he could have been graduating from Oxford. Stuck in some low-level job taking care of *your* little brother. Fucking hell Jim, teenage love doesn't last!_

_*But it's the only thing I have...*_

_I look at you, your concerned face._

_"I - I can't ask this of you... I can't ask you to throw away your future... on a whim..."_

_*But I want you to, god I want you to...*_

I watch you as you react to my words. You seem so conflicted, and my heart is in my _throat_.

Don’t you want me??

I feel like my world is going to crash around me. Oh god, oh god - please don’t - please-

But then - you finally speak again and it all makes sense.

You don’t want me to give up my _future_ for you?

“Jim... the last 2 years I’ve been a complete _wreck_. I didn’t care about anyone or anything... least of all myself... some moments were such a challenge to not end it all, I just - didn’t want to do that to my mum. I thought if I was going to do it, I should wait until I’d left home and just... disappear one day. Does that sound like someone who was thinking about his future?”

I take a deep breath, and stare at you, shaking. “Nothing mattered to me - until I met you.” I take your hand and kiss it. “So if you want me, Jim - my future is with you.”

_Oh god don't say that Sebastian - you make it sound so tempting - so true -_

_An image of you alone and desperate - and you *were*, I could see that when I first saw you, can see it still in the lines on your face - crosses my mind, and it wrenches my heart - no –_

_*Mine.*_

_… it would appear so._

_"I - can't believe you would say that - you must - know where I live, what I do, what I am... and you'd choose that? Just to be with me?"_

I stare at you, bewildered. Don’t you know what I’d be willing to do for you...?

“I’m not choosing that, and neither are you. I have some money and I can get us a flat. And then I’ll find a job. My trust fund unfortunately doesn’t transfer to me until I’m 25 - Daddy dearest wanted me under his control as long as possible. But I have enough to get us started, anyway.”

I know I can always ask Gran for help too if I really need it, but I don’t mention that to you. I’m rather enjoying feeling like a man - who will take care of everything for his love...

But there’s one more detail to approach.

“The thing is though, Jim... I don’t think I can just take off while Mum is still here. It would be better if I wait a month to go back to Eton, and then return. I’ll be gone from the house, and it will be far less upsetting than disappearing during a holiday... I’m afraid they wouldn’t leave and they’d get the police involved...” I trail off as you digest this information. I can’t tell what you’re thinking...

Jim... say something...

_Get a - flat?? And a job?!_

_All my fantasies of domestic bliss come rushing in - you and me sitting on a sofa, reading - me cooking dinner for when you come home from your job - you cooking breakfast at the weekends - sleeping in our *own* bed in a *bedroom* - Georgie asleep next door in his bedroom -_

_oh god Sebastian -_

_But -_

_Wait a month?_

_*An entire *month*?!*_

_What's a month? It will give you a chance to kick the smack - you don't want Seb there for that._

_Not kicking anything until like a week before he's back. And I want the bunker well and truly in place._

_You can do that. You can survive a month. You'll have a goal. Maybe even look out for nice flats. Talk to Sal about IDs - get Seb one that shows he's 21. He'll have to have a fake name so his parents don't find him. It's going to fly by._

_Still - a *month* -_

_"I -_

_don't know what to say Seb. That's - that's amazing. I can't believe you would - do that for me..."_

Your momentary happiness seems troubled. I’m starting to get used to giving you the time you need to think. And then the thought of us knowing each other’s ways and idiosyncrasies makes me so stunningly happy, I can barely breathe.

This is all I’ve ever wanted...

“There’s no end to what I would do for you, Jim...” I say hoarsely. I slide my arms around you, and bury my face in your hair. Your scent is so dizzying - will I really have this whenever I want it??

“So the only thing you need to say is... is this what you want?” I murmur. “I know this is mental after only a few days, and we’re ‘too young’, blah blah... but I _don’t care_. I don’t think this happens very often in life... The only thing that would feel mental to me is feeling _this_ for someone and - not _doing_ something about it...”

_I swallow. I can't believe what you're saying -_

_but it's true, I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in everything -_

_"I -"_

_*Say no. Tell him to finish his school, at least.*_

_Fuck off. He can finish his school later - do evening classes, whatever -_

_"I want this. Oh god, I want this - I want *you*, Sebastian... more than I've ever wanted anything -"_

_I hold you, hold you close, bury my face in your neck._

_"It's just - I guess I need to explain - about my brother..."_

_Why are you still hesitating?_

God, Moran - you just dropped a bombshell on him... this is a major commitment for teenagers no matter how world-weary they are. Let the guy have a moment to react...

And then - the most beautiful words come out of your mouth, and I want to do backflips around the room...

I start to fight back tears as you hold on to me so tightly... I’m about to tell you that you have me for always...

And then –

what about your brother?

_I look at you. You're looking back expectantly._

_I sigh._

_How do I explain all this?_

_But - when we find Georgie, you'll find out - won't you? No - Georgie might be happy not to tell you what happened. It will be our secret._

_If he still wants to be with me._

_*Pain*._

_I sigh again._

_"My brother - Georgie - I'm trying to find out where he is. I'm - breaking into children's homes, checking their records. I haven't found him yet. When I have, I want to take him away, have him come live with me - with us - if he wants to. He's - all the family I have left, he's what's kept me alive. I can't abandon him."_

_I look up at you. How do you feel about suddenly getting an extra brother thrown in?_

God, you’re really dragging this out - what are you afraid of telling me??

I dread the thought of what you’ve gone through that has caused you so much pain...

Oh - wow -

I blink as I process this. Breaking a kid out of a home, living with said kid -

Not _quite_ the domestic scene I had imagined.

But then -

 _Of course_ you’d want your brother safe... So -

I stroke your face. “Of course you can’t abandon him,” I say gently. “I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep you safe and happy...”

_You -_

_*really??*_

_Not even a question. 'Of course'._

_What did I do to deserve you, Sebastian Moran?_

_"He's twelve; he's two years younger than me. I mean - you'd not get a toddler on your hands; he's a great kid, smart, cheerful, does well at school; really friendly and helpful. You'll love him."_

I feel a note of panic rise up, but I keep my face neutral.

Shit. What do I know about kids? Now suddenly I’ll be helping to raise one?

But then - you’re even younger than me, and this isn’t exactly an ideal situation for you either. You’re doing what needs to be done for your brother.

And I’m doing what needs to be done for you.

What’s the alternative, Seb? Leave for London and never see him again? Or say ‘good luck, let’s meet up when your life is sorted’?

I imagine myself back at Eton, alone - study, drink, shag, destroy. Repeat.

I’d be climbing the walls by the end of the first week, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Then I’d be on a plane to Dublin, and begging your forgiveness for leaving.

Fuck it. I’m all in.

“If you love him, how could I not?” I say with finality.

_I look at you - you're not joking. You have a resolute smile on your face - you *will* love him because he's my brother. And I'm sure Georgie will like you - you are so pleasant and easy-going._

_Fucking hell. We're actually going to do this. When I find Georgie it's not just me who's going to take care of him - you'll help. That makes everything look so much brighter. Not just because you'll be there, though that is of course a major plus - but because you're older, look like you're eighteen, and you have the air and accent that will make people go out of their way for you where they never would for me._

_You're going to make things so much easier - but I'm not saying that; I wouldn't want you to think that that's why I want you to stay._

You’re looking at me in disbelief - emotions flit across your face as you think. Hope. Relief. Dare I think it - happiness?

You don’t say anything, just gaze at me - looking somewhat stunned and even a little starry-eyed.

God - just make me feel like my heart is going to burst, why don’t you...

“The answer is, yes...” I murmur, running my fingers through your hair. “Yes, we’re mental. Yes, we’re really going to do this. And yes, we’ll _make this work_. I think that the two of us together... can do whatever the hell we decide we’re gonna do...” Your eyes light up at this, and I stare at you in awe.

God, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that...

_You're right. You're so fucking right..._

_You and me? The world doesn't stand a chance. I've got the brains; you've got the looks..._

_I grab you. "I love you Sebastian."_

I’m this close to swooning when you go all fierce and say the words to me again.

But I keep it together, and gaze at you with a slightly feral smile. “Mmm. I love you too, my King...”

_"No, not king. Not kitten, either. Jim. Look me in the eyes and tell me you love Jim."_

_I don't know why that's suddenly so important, but I need to hear it._

_I need to believe it._

_Oh_.

Shit...

My smile fades.

“M’sorry, I got carried away...” I murmur. I gaze at you intently.

“With everything in me... I love you, Jim.”

_I -_

_I can't defend -_

_\- against this –_

_I asked for it, but -_

_you're looking into my eyes and saying those words -_

_*with everything in me... I love you*_

_and it's *true*, I can see it's true -_

_Where did this *come* from?? We've known each other since *Saturday* -_

_\- and we're completely mad –_

_*Dopamine. Norepinephrine. Serotonin. Oxytocin. Testosterone.* It's all chemicals. You're just doing what your body is programmed to do. Predictable._

_No - this must be different -_

_Everyone thinks that. Especially teenagers. You're the stereotypical Romeo and eh, Julio. Too doped up on feelgood hormones to think straight._

_Well I am not straight, nor do I want to think so..._

_My Sebastian..._

_With a sigh, I lean my head against your shoulder, put my hand in your neck._

_"I trust you. Thank you."_

You’re thinking again. Makes me nervous as all hell. Fuck - did I get that wrong? Again?

After an eternity, you sigh and rest against me.

You’ve given me your trust and I sense what a rare treasure that is...

“Thank you for _what_...” I whisper. “You’ve given me the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

I pull you close, breathing deeply.

_"The only thing you've ever wanted is a scrawny psychopathic Irish junkie..." I snigger into your neck. "You absolute bellend... you could have had Victoria."_

I snort. “Yeah? And I could have received detention at Her Majesty's pleasure when I was found guilty of throttling the lovely bitch.” I smile as you laugh louder, and I join you. “Oh god - I wonder h-how Stu’s managing...” I gasp out, shoulders shaking.

_"Stu is a brave and stalwart soldier, ready to sacrifice himself for King and Country," I giggle. We're both laughing more and more, swept up by each other, until we're howling helplessly on the bed, tears streaming down our faces._

_A release from all the tension... it makes perfect sense. My stomach hurts, but I can't stop..._

God, it feels good to laugh... as we’re gasping for breath, I grin at you and stroke your arm.

“How has it only been a few days? I feel like I’ve known you forever...” I say fondly.

_"It does a bit... but then on the other hand there's *so much* I don't know about you yet, that I want to... I can't wait to find out what your favourite board game is, and what you like to watch on telly, and your favourite foods and drinks and books and films and... everything," I smile._

_I can't believe I'll get to find all that out... as I'll be with you day in day out, knowing you better than anyone else, night after night spent talking and cuddling and me massaging your shoulders after a hard day at work and cooking your food and doing the laundry and for fuck's sake Moriarty, you're going to be quite the little housewife, aren't you?_

_Yes, and I can't wait... Georgie is going to grow up in the most loving household you can imagine._

You’re back to looking blissful, not thinking too hard.. good. Let’s enjoy this.

“You’ll find out everything very quickly, I’m sure...” I murmur, kissing your lips. “Interrogate me as you like - tie me to a chair and smack me about for being a recalcitrant prisoner... or chain me to a wall and thrash me soundly. Depends if I have it coming, I suppose...” I smile slyly.

_"Ohhhh, yes..." I muse. We'll have to get Georgie a music system with some good headphones..._

_"Here I was thinking of us having a glass of wine and intimate talks over dinner... but of course throwing you over the table and whipping you is a *much* better plan. 'Tell me your favourite film! NOW!!' 'Never! I'll take it to my grave!'"_

I laugh out loud. “Sounds about right... I’ve been accused of defiance my entire life. No one appreciates that I’ve raised it to a level of art... It’s about time someone enjoyed it.” I wink at you.

_"I'm pretty sure we can whip that defiance out of you quite effectively..." I say, my voice low, looking into your eyes._

_"I bet people have tried..." A shift of the eyes, painful memories - your lowlife of a father, no doubt. I *will* kill him at some point; just say the word, Sebbie._

_"... but taming a Tiger takes patience and skill and love. It's a form of art... painting him with your stripes, making him groan in pain... and in pleasure."_

I feel myself growing entranced as you speak. God... you’re so hypnotic... and you have me figured out already, which is stunning considering my entire life no one’s been able to get me to do what they want for very long...

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Fuck... you’re going to have me wrapped around your little finger, aren’t you...” I whisper and kiss said little finger reverently.

_"Going to? Nah... I think I have you there already, don't I?" I raise an eyebrow._

“Mmm... permanently, Sir...” I swirl my tongue around your perfect fingertip, and suck it gently.

_Am I ready for some morning exercise after you filling me up to near-bursting?_

_Mmm... maybe some light flagellation, nothing too demanding..._

_"Take off your pants," I point. "Then bring me a belt and kneel on the bed facing me."_

Oh? I wasn’t actually angling for anything (for once), just enjoying a moment of sweetness and intimacy with you.

But if you _want_ to...

I stand up with a smouldering smile and shimmy out of my pants - then I toss them over my shoulder before doing as I’m told. I hand you the belt then get into position. My heartbeat quickens as I wait.

_You kneeling in front of me... so beautiful._

_"When we have our own flat," (our own flat! *we!* will have *our own* flat!) "I want some sturdy hooks in the walls and the ceiling to tie my Knight to, should he need correction... or should I simply desire to hear him moan."_

_I get up off the bed._

_"Hands behind your back, my love..." It feels so good to say that, to be loving, the moment I will dole out pain, because I love you and I love giving you pain, and the two go so beautifully together..._

_I let the belt fly, creating a red stripe across your chest._

Every word you say in that beautiful voice, with that lyrical accent, is making me feel like I’m drowning in pleasure and you haven’t even laid a finger on me...

So when the first lash hits, it takes me by surprise - every spot on my body has a different sensation of pain. I inhale sharply, then smile slowly at you.

_An inhale, then a smile - unexpected. A smile that says 'don't mind the inhale, I do like this' as well as 'I enjoy nothing more than to be on my knees under your lash'. Good, Sebastian... because there's nothing I enjoy more either..._

_I make my way up your chest, to your pecs, lash your nipples, then over them._

_I should buy some aloe vera cream or something today to treat your skin - the faster it heals, the faster I can lash it again…._

_"Open your legs, my darling."_

I take the lashes with a few gasps and groans, which seems to give you no end of pleasure. I love how you look at me, eyes gleaming - so proprietary, so... _predatory_.

And then you give me your next order, and I stare at you, unsure.

Really?

You stare back meaningfully, and I take a deep breath. Slowly and hesitantly I part my thighs as you desire. My heart begins to race...

_My heart feels like it wants to jump out of my chest into your hands as you obey..._

_I tell you to open the most vulnerable part of your anatomy to the psycho with the belt and you *obey*..._

_If I loved you any more, would my rib cage break? My heart burst? I know it's physically not possible, but it *feels* like it will._

_You look at me, hesitant but determined._

_I get closer to you, take careful aim. I am not going to injure my favourite toy, but you don't know that. I see sweat on your forehead._

_I lash down on the inside of your thigh, where the skin is so thin and sensitive._

“Fuck,” I hear myself shout. Breathing shakily, I gaze at you - I feel calmer when I look directly at you. Those eyes... fuck, those eyes...

_That shocked you. Yes, I know... that sweet soft skin doesn't get a lot of punishment as a rule. But I've read my Histoire d'O and have taken notes..._

_My heart does expand even more and it does feel like it's bursting when I see you look at me._

_It hurt, and it was unexpected. And you know there's more to come. But you don't close your legs, or even your eyes - you look at *me*. The source of your pain - and it helps you to look at me, because you love me, and want to please me, and want to see that I love you and am pleased by you. I look back, at your eyes, large and dark, and reach out with my right hand, stroke your jaw. For a moment, you lean into my hand, and your muscles relax._

You touch my face, and it nearly undoes me - I want to be petted by you, adored by you, and I will do _anything_ to keep this feeling alive in you. God, and I said you had me wrapped around your little finger... was that the fucking understatement of the year. What _wouldn't_ I do for you? God bless fucking Ireland, I think blissfully as I breathe in the dizzying scent of your skin.

_I lean over, kiss your lips, briefly, dry and warm, almost chaste. "I love you, Sebastian... you're doing so well for me."_

_I pull back, see your eyes shine, lit up by my appreciation._

_That's it. Heart burst. Wet hot mess all through my rib cage, leaking into my stomach, flowing up into my throat, blocking it._

_What a way to go, I guess._

_I lift the belt again, lash your other thigh._

I groan loudly as the other thigh receives the biting kiss of the belt in your hand. Again. And again. And again. By the time you're done, my thighs are trembling and my skin is damp with perspiration. Panting, I stare at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

_Groans and shivers, so magnificent, so sweet..._

_When your thighs are stripy and red, I hang the belt over the footboard._

_Your face is too beautiful to bear, flustered, sweaty, eyes large and damp, half closed, lips parted, moist where you licked them._

_I lie down on my stomach on the bed, move my head in between your glowing thighs, lick the right one, then move up to your cock. You've earned this._

God, I can barely focus on your face but I try to - desperately, longingly. Especially when you go to lie down, what are you -

_OH..._

I suck in my breath when you lick my stinging thigh and then -

there is a god, there is a god, and his name is Jim...

_My sweet brave knight on his knees, trembling as I kiss and suck him, groaning as I take the skin of his thigh between thumb and forefinger and squeeze… and finally calling out his bliss towards the ceiling; shivering as I sit up, a satisfied grin on my face._

God, the pleasure - pain - bliss - desperation -

fusing them together -

with each stroke of your tongue -

...

white-hot -

shivering -

shuddering -

...

_oh god -_

...

_hngh -_

...

Panting I find myself still kneeling but slightly slumped over - hands still behind my back.

"Oh fuck..." I gasp out. "oh... holy fuck..."

_My beautiful man. I stroke your face, wipe the sweat from your brow, kiss it._

_"You've pleased me, my knight," I smile, then gently press your head down._

Oh god... it is endless pleasure being in your presence...

I take in a breath before I’m pushed over your cock. My lips slide over your head and then with a small moan, I lose myself in the slick sensation, the rhythmic motion... mmm... Jim...

_It doesn't take long for you to bring me to my climax - after all that, and seeing you bowed down before me, your back still bearing my stripes -_

_minemineminemine -_

_My fingers tighten in your hair as I shudder and moan my way through my own orgasm - I have never come so much as I have these past days, and I just can't get enough..._

_As we're lying down on the bed in a warm cosy cuddle, I stroke your hair, your ears, your neck, wanting to commit every detail to tactile as well as audiovisual memory, if I am going to have to miss you for an entire month._

_A few days ago I had no idea who you were... and now the thought of spending thirty entire days without you is terrifying._

Drowsy and happy, I feel your fingertips on me, sliding over my skin. I take your other hand, kiss your palm, and interlace my fingers with yours. I have no idea how long we lie there... murmuring, touching...

I don’t want to think about anything that will break our bubble - but eventually thoughts arise. I keep batting them away like moths, and they keep fluttering back insistently.

I sigh heavily. “Well if I don’t want to cause World War III, at some point I need to head back for that stupid play. Is there anything you need to do today? Besides see me later tonight?” I look at you hopefully.

_Is there anything? I wanted to get aloe vera cream... and I guess I better check in with Stu. I'll have to be careful so Victoria doesn't see me - though we could maintain I'm Stu's housemate and that's how my sister knew him. Still, better not get too involved._

_"Nope - nothing to do but laze about all day... what play are you going to see?"_

I think for a moment. “Wilde... Ehm - The Importance of Being Earnest.”

I shake my head. “I like Wilde. But I’m not surprised by Mum’s choice... the duplicitous gentleman trying to sidestep his social obligations... ending up happily married. What’s not to love?” I roll my eyes and then snigger. “Written by a sardonic, unapologetic ponce. Somewhat fitting after all...”

_I look up, my eyes large. "Ohhh, I love the Importance of Being Earnest! It's Wilde's best play, wouldn't you agree? And Algernon Moncrieff is..." I sigh, gesture in the air, "magnificent._

_I am so envious - I've never seen it performed as a play, only read it. I wish I could join you..."_

I blink - here I am, rolling my eyes and you’re dying to see it.

“Would you like to see it this week? I could check for tickets when I go tonight...”

_My eyes go large - “Oh!!! Would you??”_

_But - “you’re not that keen - maybe don’t want to see it again-“_

_Also I couldn’t afford a ticket - were you implying that you’d pay, or -_

_Things might get awkward –_

You’re deliriously happy for a moment, and my heart swells- but then you appear so worried, so _disappointed_ -

No, Jim - don’t be sad-

“No, I enjoy a good play, Jim. It’s seeing one with my mother when she’s actively campaigning to see me married off that I don’t fancy...” I grimace.

“So I likely won’t enjoy the play all that much tonight, but I’ll absolutely love seeing it with you...” I kiss your lips. “And I’d love for us to have a proper date, before we shag each other rotten.” I grin, caressing your cheek. “My treat.”

You look so relieved when I say that, although you try to hide it. Shit - is that what you were worried about?

_Oh -_

_"Thank you!" I kiss your nose._

_We're going on a *date*! A *proper* date, to the theatre - we will be able to go to the theatre more often when we live together - not all the time, of course; it's expensive, but maybe as a treat - on birthdays or anniversaries - I beam. Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty are going on a *date*. What shall I wear??_

_I hope you can get tickets and it's not sold out..._

God, delighted Jim - I need a lot more of this in my life. I must figure out what delights you, and Do That. Frequently.

“My pleasure,” I purr, and kiss your hand.

There. Very knight-like.

_"So... what do you want to do tonight? Just come over here after the play? I guess we'll need to see if Stu and Victoria haven't killed each other..."_

“God,” I groan. “I don’t know which outcome I’m rooting for. Although her still being alive is very convenient for us... and I don’t want you to have lost your friend to a natural disaster.” I grin. “So. You want to check? And then - whatever you want. Something you want for lunch?”

_"Lunch?!" I look at you, shocked, then look at your body. Slim and trim. Where does all that food go?!_

_"I don't think I'll be recovering from breakfast before sundown..." I admit, rubbing my stomach._

_What to do in Dublin? Well - you're a tourist..._

_"Have you been to the Chester Beatty Library? It has some amazing stuff - you'll love it if you're into history. It's got Egyptian papyrus rolls, Chinese books, Arabic... I love going there. It's free."_

A library? I wouldn’t have thought of such a thing to do with you. But I’m up for history, sure. And it interests you, perfect.

“Sounds cool. I’ll just grab lunch on the way. If you’re good, you can have a bite,” I grin.

_"Hmmmm... I see a *particularly* good bit there..." I say, and attack your neck, putting my teeth in and growling, but not really biting. Not *too* much at least._

_We take the bus to Shrewsbury Road where you buy a sandwich at a café. I settle for a coffee. Then we head to the library, where you gawk at the earliest copy of the Gospel of St John and the letters of St Paul, and I talk you through the purposes of the Egyptian Books of the Dead and point out the difficulties with reading the Kufic script of the early Koran scrolls._

_"So you see, because of the unpointed abjad this word could be read as 'house', or 'daughter', or 'plant'… - what?" I notice you looking at me bemused._

“Jesus...” I mutter. “And I thought I was good at languages...”

My clever adorable genius... that’s what you are, aren’t you.

I listen as you happily chatter away about things I cannot fathom how you know about let alone have such a firm grasp of - and by the time we leave the museum, I’m even more in awe of you.

Being outside brings me back to earth with a thump.

“So are we going to check on Stu...? Or would you rather do that alone?” I add when I see your face.

_Oh -_

_take you home? To our merry collection of junkies?_

_"I'm not sure if it's wise that you show up with your girlfriend's brother again, in case Victoria is still there..." I try._

_"It's nearly five," you reply. "I don't think she'll have stuck around for the day."_

_I look at the ground. "I - it's a mess. It's a squat full of junkies. Stu will have taken Victoria into the back room, which is less awful than the rest, but - are you sure you want to see that? Won't you - I just don't want you to think less of me," I blurt out._

“Think _less_ of you,” I repeat, stunned. “Listen to me, Jim - I’ve partied with enough drugged out people in enough shitty squats - it’s been a very dark couple of years after - you know...” I mutter. “So I don’t think I’ll see anything I haven’t seen before. And maybe I’d like to see for myself that you’ll be safe while I’m gone... maybe even threaten anyone who needs to be threatened...” I mutter darkly at the thought.

“If you don’t want me to see it, fine. But I am quite certain that if I hadn’t been born into a wealthy family... and if I hadn’t been biding my time for Mum’s sake - I would have likely ended up in a place like that. Or prison. Or in the ground.” I grasp your shoulders and stare at you intently. “So I don’t want to hear anything about thinking ‘less’ of you. Alright?”

_I chuckle at your suggestion to threaten people - oh don’t worry my darling; I’m the scariest one in the house, and they all know. Yet it’s *so cute* that you’re so keen to protect me..._

_I consider the options. On the one hand, I do want to be with you as long as possible. On the other - is anyone going to say anything stupid? On the first hand again - I can’t imagine the looks on their faces when I walk in with my *boyfriend*._

_They’re not likely to say anything silly, are they? I mean, it’s not like we generally discuss what we do in the shadows. It’s mostly talking bollocks about what’s on the TV._

_“Alright,” I say. “I’m - I don’t want to have secrets from you.” Not too many, at least. “Let’s see if Stu’s still around.”_

You’re still worried, aren’t you... Jim, don’t you know how I feel about you? To me, you’re above everyone and everything in the world. Having fallen on hard times as a teenager because of your fucked-up childhood is hardly going to tarnish that in my eyes. If anything, I’m in awe of you for having educated yourself, taking care of yourself, and now trying to do what it takes to take care of your brother.

“Alright... let’s pay a visit to Stu. And find out how their romantic evening went,” I chuckle.

_We take the bus to our flat, in an area you’d never get to as a tourist – ugly and concrete. We traverse the stairwell which stinks of piss, cross the gallery, and I let you in. Bennie, Stu, Jenny, and Sharky are watching some comedy series and chatting about whether vegetarians can wear leather. They grow quieter when we enter. I can read the thoughts on their faces - customer? We agreed not to bring those home. Friend of Jimmy’s? Jimmy doesn’t have friends. New guy? We’re full up and he looks too healthy. Wary faces from all except Stu, who recognizes you and smiles, raising an eyebrow._

_“Hey!”_

_“Hey,” I grin back. I can’t help feeling immensely proud of the beautiful boy by my side. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Sebastian.”_

_I taste the words in my mouth. They feel so good... *My boyfriend Sebastian*._

_“Sebastian, you’ve met Stu; this is Jenny, Sharky, and Bennie.”_

_In various stages of open-mouthedness._

My eyes scan the flat - I’ve been in places like this before I realized I didn’t want to die in a place like this. And neither will you.

Then I quickly scan the people you are introducing me to, letting them see me do it, before a friendly smile rises to the surface. You don’t seem to think you need protection or threats, but I’d like to judge that for myself.

“Hi Jenny, Sharky, and Bennie,” I parrot back, grinning.

_Jenny is the first to overcome her astonishment. "Hi Sebastian - nice to meet you," she manages. Bennie and Sharky mumble similar sentiments._

_"Stu, you want to have a word?" I ask, and he says yes, but doesn't seem to be getting up._

_"You want to know about Victoria?" he grins. "Don't worry, these guys know it all... they've heard us going at it *all night*..."_

_I look at Jenny. She doesn't look happy. She's got a thing for Stu but denies it._

_"So, you got on well then?" I ask, gritting my teeth. He's looking out of it - just had a hit and is grinning to himself too much._

_"Smas-hing," he singsongs. "I hope you're on again for tonight because we are..."_

_Sharky rolls his eyes._

We exchange glances. Wow. That worked out better than we’d hoped for.

“As a matter of fact we are... so you enjoyed each other’s company, I take it?” I ask wryly.

_"Company - is that what the kids call it these days," he sniggers. "You had the right idea Jimmy - those posh people are..." he's struggling to find a word._

_"Concupiscent?" I suggest. He looks at me, unsure if I'm taking the piss._

_"Did you get any pictures of you two together, anything like that?" I ask impatiently. He shakes his head. "No time, Jimmy Boy... we barely made it here before all clothes were off. I'll try to steal a pair of knickers tonight, how's that? Say I want to sleep with them..."_

_He moves his hand to in front of his face, sniffs loudly. Jenny looks away in disgust._

_"Though Jimmy - there's one thing," he says, his face suddenly moving to serious. "If I'm meeting up with her every night, I'm not going to make any money. In fact - neither are you - or is he paying you?"_

_I go hot, then cold - shut the fuck *up* - "Feck off!" I spit._

_Sharky is pulling back, but bloody Stu is too high to realize what's happening. "Are you going to pay me, Jimmy? It's usually fifteen quid per shag, but I'll do you a friend's rate - you'd owe me sixty quid for last night otherwise..."_

I can’t help enjoying your annoyed snapping at Stu, and everybody’s reactions - it’s starting to feel like being in a play.

I’ve longed to live in a world away from Eton and the aristocracy for so long... not _this_ exactly. But there’s something about living with other people, and ribbing each other, not giving a shit about expensive furniture or keeping up appearances, and-

Paying you? What?

Now you’ve gone too far, _mate_... don’t even joke about us having that kind of relationship, you have _no idea_ what we’ve shared -

My mouth opens to speak, but you curse at him, and someone backs away, and then -

Fifteen quid a shag??

Stu is - a gigolo? I suppose that makes sense, it wouldn’t be beyond the pale for a junkie...

“So that means - we arranged for Victoria to sleep with a male prostitute?” I snigger, and look at you - but you’re staring at Stu furiously, and he’s staring back with a stupid grin that makes me want to punch him.

Wait - there’s something he said that’s important... what did he say??

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask slowly.

_*a male prostitute*._

_And you *snigger*._

_Disdain in your voice._

_Of course. No one respects a *prostitute*._

_Why did I bring you here?! I should have known someone would say something *stupid* -_

_Now what?_

_Try to salvage the situation?_

_No - you're clever, you'll have your suspicions, even if you haven't quite yet -_

_\- and I said I wanted to be honest to you -_

_*Why* did I bring you here?!_

_*a male prostitute? snigger.*_

_I feel tears rush up, but I'm not crying - not in front of everyone - in front of *Stu* -_

_Sharky elbows Stu, but he just goes "What?!" Too fucking stupid for words -_

_I drag you along towards the back room, put my back to the door to move the mattress that's blocking it, pull you inside, let it fall shut._

_I fall onto the mattress, my hands in front of my face._

_*a male prostitute?*_

_*snigger*_


	14. Love is a Stranger

What is that _look_ on your face? Like I gave you a baby bunny for your birthday and then took a bat to it...

what did I _do??_

I’m about to ask when you drag me back to another room, and fall onto a mattress.

“Jim?? What’s wrong? I don’t understand -“ I sit next to you, bewildered.

You’re still not showing your face - I think of your expression, so hurt, so haunted...

And then the bit that I was trying to remember rises up: _I’m not going to make any money. Neither are YOU._

You’re a -

You??

“Jim. Are you...?”

You make a sound in your throat. It sounds like pain.

I can’t handle the thought of you in pain.

“Please, Jim - talk to me -“ I plead.

_*Jim. Are you...?*_

_The rest of that sentence wasn't 'alright'. Or 'upset'. It was 'a prostitute'. Surprise. Shock._

_I whimper though I try not to._

_You're touching me, put your hand on my shoulder, ask me to *talk* -_

_"Donwanna..." I squeeze out. Bloody tears are pushing themselves through my firmly closed eyelids._

_*Fucking* Stu..._

_Think_ , Moran -

And _fix this._

Well, by your reaction, I know the answer. My heart sinks with the realization.

‘How could you not _tell me_ ‘, rises up defiantly.

 _Not. Now._ I growl back. _He’s crying. FIX._

“Jim... It’s alright,” I say as I stroke your arm helplessly. “Why are you upset? I’m not going anywhere...”

_So now you know._

_You know and you're telling me you're not going anywhere._

_Are you not, though?_

_I look up, blink to get my eyes to clear, look at your face. I see nothing but concern._

_"I'm sorry... I didn't want you to know," I sigh. "I didn't want you to think - less of me."_

_Fuck it! There's nothing *wrong* with it!_

_Suddenly angry, I throw off your hand, stand up, stomp around the mattress._

_"It’s no more than providing a *service*! You were *alright* with me breaking and entering and pickpocketing - that *hurts* people! Prostitution doesn't *hurt* anyone! Why is it the one thing that gets everyone all full of *disdain*, like it's the most despicable thing in the world -_

_I can't keep breaking and entering to earn my money! It's too risky and if I get arrested, I'll get put away for ever and I'll never see Georgie again!_

_You have *no fucking idea* what it's like Sebastian! So don't - you - *fecking* - judge me!"_

_I'm furious, standing facing you with fists clenched._

OK... you’re looking at me. Talking. That’s good.

And then -

 _boom_.

I watch aghast as you explode into anger and indignation and start storming about.

Shouting. And ranting. And _lecturing_ me as if I’m somehow representing society?

What the _fuck_ , Jim!!

“Judge you?” I say slowly, my voice tight. “I wasn’t _judging_ you; I was reacting to a pretty big fucking bomb. Like - can I have more than one fucking moment to react to _my boyfriend_ being a prostitute?”

Great - now you look even angrier. Fuck. This is just getting worse...

“Jesus! I didn’t mean it that way!” I shout. “When the fuck did _I_ get assigned to represent society? _I_ don’t understand judgment and prudishness? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea what people say about _me?_ My parent’s so-called friends, the fucking kids at Eton? You think being known for cocksucking and fucking guys up the arse is a small thing? It’s a _big fucking issue_ , Jim!”

Oh shit - have I been shouting at you this entire time?? We stare at each other, shocked.

_"Oh sure! Mr Posh Bi Boy knows all about what it's like to be a fugitive, to live in a dump like this, to be forced to prostitute yourself to get enough money to buy the one thing that dulls the pain a bit, to be raped and beaten up - of course! It's all just the same as having your *chums* at Eton call you a cocksucker!_

_You *fecking* - entitled - brat!"_

_That's not what he *meant* Jimmy -_

_He was talking about judgement of society Jimmy -_

_You didn't mean to tell him all that Jimmy -_

_He is *not* an entitled *brat* Jimmy –_

_Why does my mouth not listen to my brain? Why does it shout those things at you?_

_Posh Bi Boy?_

_chums at Eton?_

_entitled brat?_

I feel my body growing cold as you fling these disdainful words at me. My muscles begin to tremble, which is never a sign of anything good to come...

There’s an underlying core of shame being activated, and it’s all about my fucking background and why the _fuck_ am I supposed to be ashamed of what I was born into? I never _asked_ to be born!

And around that core of shame is _fury_ that anyone would judge me based on my unfortunate parentage, and my sexual proclivities which are none of their _fucking business_.

“Yes, Jim...” I say coldly. “I’m so fucking worried about _name-calling_ and being _jeered_ at behind my back. _That’s_ what makes me pour whisky down my throat every night to be able to sleep. _That’s_ what the nightmares are about, that wake me up screaming... what Eton brats think of me. It has _nothing_ to do with having the shit kicked out of me by my father the first time he found out - when I got caught with my pants down with another guy at a posh party. And It wasn’t the last time, because I just fucking did more of it to spite him, didn’t I?” There are tears running down my face now; when the fuck did that start??

“And it has nothing to do with my best friend _dying horribly_ , and being responsible for that! All I care about is what people say about me behind my fucking back!!” I end in a howl, staring at the wall, breathing shakily and swiping at the tears that won’t stop.

_I have my mouth open to shout some more at you, god knows about what, but then you start *crying* and you turn away from me so I won't see it and I feel my heart break in two and the blood pouring out douses the fire of anger in my chest._

_"Sebastian..."_

_I step towards you over the wobbly mattress, touch your shoulder._

_"Seb – “ I try – how do I do this? Apologize – yes, apologize is a good start – “I'm so sorry, I didn't want to - say all those things. I was just - angry because - well, because it's a sore point. You are the furthest thing from an entitled brat I know..."_

_I hang my head. How could I have said that? Wanting to touch a sore point of yours because you touched one of mine? But you only *touched* the sore point, you didn't then poke it and rub salt into it, like me..._

_Fuck Jimmy you're a little piece of shit aren't you..._

I feel your weight shift the mattress, and then a hand on my shoulder. I have to stop myself from jerking away. I want to, I really do...

I want to shout and rage and break whatever I can find in this squalid room in this squalid flat in this squalid life - it makes me want to scream at the thought of you sleeping here, living _this_ day after day...

Well, my life is shit too, even with the picture-perfect environment, I snap back at myself.

I force myself to tune in as I realize you’re speaking.

I just nod, unable to reply. I’m not going to cry anymore, I’m _not_ -

Sebastian...

_What..._

You have to say something...

 _Why_... why do _I_ have to take the high road...

Because no one is looking out for him and... he has only you... and he’s _hurting_.

In the silence I draw in a shaky breath, and turn my tear-streaked face towards you.

To see your scared, haunted expression.

My face crumples, and I yank you towards me - holding you tightly against me, my shoulders shaking, my breath heaving. “Jim... I’m s-sorry...” I gasp out.

_I spend an eternity staring at the mattress, idly wondering if the stain I see is from last night or from before; I can't see it clearly in the twilight of the closed blinds, repeating my damning words again and again, the words that will cost me my love, after a relationship of a few hours, well done Jimmy, this is why you can't have nice things... you always break them..._

_You turn around, your eyes red and damp, tears on your cheek -_

_and you grab me in a bear-hug that knocks the breath out of me, squeezing me tight as you breathe hard, your body still shaking with silent sobs. And you apologize... oh my Sebbie..._

_"It's not your fault - I shouldn't have said those things... I thought you were - judging me, angry with me - you *sniggered* when you said male prostitute -"_

_Oh for fuck's sake Jimmy don't go accusing him again!_

“I wasn’t _angry_ , I - Jim -“

I stop in surprise to process what you said. “I wasn’t laughing at _Stu_... it was a fucking absurd situation _as it was_ setting up Victoria with your hot friend to ‘take care of her’ for a week. The thought of him being a professional -“

Oh Jesus, don’t laugh, Seb!!

“I promise you I was laughing about _Victoria_ and the thought of how she would react - and _her family_ \- Jesus... “ I shake my head. “They’d organize _a hunt_ and there would be no need for a _fox_... It would be _my_ head mounted on her fuckwit father’s wall. _That’s_ what was funny... Although to be honest, Victoria’s a predator through and through - there’s not a romantic bone in that girl’s body. She might just laugh her arse off...” A smile escapes me. “I’m _sorry_ ; I swear it’s not about you! But I should have been more sensitive... you just - threw me for a loop -“ I admit, shaking my head. “I wish it hadn’t thrown me. But it did...” I take your hand. “I’m so sorry...”

_You're apologizing again..._

_And explaining - oh - yes OK I guess that makes sense..._

_But - you're not getting it -_

_"But - that's not who Stu *is*. I mean - he goes and stands on a corner, sure - but - that's men. Women don't pick boys up from the street. It's just - it's just something he does to get money. He doesn't *enjoy* it. Girls, he enjoys. He loves fucking girls. And they love fucking him - but they don't *pay* him for it. He'd be offended if anyone suggested it, I think..."_

_What am I trying to get at with this??_

_"What I mean is - it's a chore that you sometimes have to do to get money. None of us could get a job in this economy, and if we could, it wouldn't pay shit. Not all of us have the inclination or skill required for burglary or robbery; or find it's too risky. So - you find a guy who's willing to pay to get his rocks off. It's not great, it's not terrible. But it's not who any of us *are*. It's like - someone saying you are a spoiled heir just because your dad is a Lord. It's circumstance. You can't change it. But it doesn't define who Stu is - or who I am."_

_Am I making any sense here? I feel I'm talking in circles..._

I have no idea where you’re going with this. I sit and listen, bewildered.

Ok, so none of you would do this by choice. Obviously.

You’re all in impossible financial situations - which obviously is exacerbated by your junk habit, don’t say that’s not the underlying factor here, Jim...

And you... want me to know what you do with your body doesn’t mean anything about who you are? Like you have to tell _me_ that??

The thing about the son of a Lord hits home... _ugh_...

“Yeah, OK... why do you feel you have to explain this to me, Jim? I get that you’re not doing this by choice. But I can’t say I like the idea...”

I wince inwardly at the thought of people doing things to you - _men_ , grown men!

Anger starts to rise in me. Who are these men who would pay for the ‘services‘ of a - a teenager?? Who would do whatever they wanted –

Wait -

there was something you said earlier -

“Someone beat you up?” I demand. “And - raped you??”

I exhale hard. “ _Fuck_ , Jim! How am I supposed to just leave you in such a dangerous situation? If I give you the money you need for the month, will you stop? I don’t want anything to happen to you!” I exclaim, my heart pounding.

_You're not *liking* the idea?!_

_My hackles rise up again - who the *fuck* do you think you are, liking or not liking what I do -_

_\- but then you ask about the beating and rape and fuck, I hadn't meant to say that, and you're panicking -_

_"No - Seb, no, don't worry, nothing's going to happen -"_

_Fucking hell Jim, way to make the guy worried sick when he's away -_

_"That was - a long time ago, before I met the guys," I gesture in the direction of the living room. "I was alone, didn't know how to defend myself, didn't know how to stay safe. I do now – I was in a gang for a bit, they taught me to fight - you've seen I can fight; and that was without using any of the proper nasty tricks. And we always go out together; make sure we keep an eye on each other, make sure the punters know it as well and don't try anything. And - I've learnt to recognize the bad ones - I can spot if a guy has bad intent; wants to leave without paying, or wants to use violence - everyone likes pairing up with me, because I can tell_ _what kind of guy a punter is, and warn them away from the bad ones. Or the guards._

_So - I'll be alright. And I also have some money from the petty cash of the children's home._

_I don't want you to pay for me Sebastian."_

_I don't want you to *buy* me._

First you look angry again, and then you look guilty. You reassure me why you’ll be safe and your reasons are fine, but how can I be ok with that, Jim??

Then you seem - what, disappointed??

I exhale slowly. “I feel like I’m saying all the wrongs things and making you sad and angry and disappointed in me.. and I don’t know what to do!” I say helplessly. “What’s wrong with paying for you? I have money and you don’t... What’s wrong with wanting to know you’re safe?”

_How do I explain this to a man who's probably never had to think about money in his life? Money that comes from someone else, as well - I can't explain about needing to be independent without making *you* look dependent._

_"It's just -" I sigh, trying to think of what to say. "I *am* safe. And - I don't want you to *pay my way*."_

_Damn, how do I get out of this without using the word independence?_

_"It would feel - like an unequal relationship."_

“But - I’d be paying for a flat and expenses when I return,” I protest. “Which would be for _us_... why wouldn’t this be for us, too? It’s _not_ an unequal relationship,” I say stubbornly, and feeling miserable. “Aren’t we - in this together?”

_"Yes - but -"_

_It's different. But how is it different? How can I explain?_

_"When you're here, it's - I'll be doing stuff as well. I'll try to get a job, even if it pays shit - it will help. If I can't find one, I'll cook and clean and stuff. And when I'm old enough to have a proper job, we'll get you to university - I *know* it's give and take, but - that's when we're *together*. Properly. Not when - we've just met, and you're going away for a month..."_

I don’t like this. I truly don’t. But I made my decision - to not traumatize Mum, I need to disappear from Eton. I won’t be uppermost in her thoughts then, and I can call her from Dublin to let her know I’m safe and that I just decided to strike out on my own. She’ll know exactly why.

But because of this, I run the risk of something happening to you while I’m gone... and I already feel guilty at the thought of not being here to protect you.

But you seem so confident that you’ll be fine...

Not the point. I need to _know_...

I sigh again. Jesus, you’re like a fucking balloon, Moran...

“I don’t like it. But I can’t force you, can I...” I rake my hand through my hair. “God, you don’t even have a phone... will you phone me? Every day? So I know you’re safe?”

_I snort. "Make an international phone call every day? I'll have to go to a phone centre and it will cost a fortune - also, how do I explain to your mum I'm calling every day? 'Hi Lady Moran, it's Victoria's secretary; is Sebastian in?'"_

_I see your worried drawn face._

_"We'll be *fine*. I've survived for fourteen years; I'll manage another month. I'll try to call you at the weekend? If we agree I'll call you on Saturday at two, you can make sure you are the one to pick up."_

Jesus... can you not meet me partway?

If I could just give you money, you could call me... why are you being so stubborn?

I’m supposed to get by on one phone call a week? What if you miss it?? I can just sit and wonder all week if you’re dead? Or in jail? Or chained up in someone’s attic?

 _Jesus_ , Sebastian... _stop_... This is not the time to deal with this; when we’re already feeling agitated...

I sigh, _again_. “Alright, Jim. Whatever you need...”

I stare at you intently. “I’m not trying to be controlling or whatever - I’m sorry if you find it overbearing. You know it’s because I couldn’t cope if something happened to you... right?”

I’m not going to cry again. I just clench my jaw, and try to keep myself from shivering.

_“Sweetheart...” I stroke your face, see the lines around your mouth and eyes deepen -_

_“Sebastian, why do you think anything would happen to me when you’re away? I’ve been alright all this time; I’ll survive another month._

_If you like, you can leave me some money. And I’ll do another break-in in a children’s home or two - they might have cash lying about. And I’ll try to cut the smack - I might not need it with all these love chemicals buzzing round my head. I’ll definitely need to hear your voice regularly then though..._

_And then when you’re back, we can make a clean start._

_Does that sound alright? Can you live with that?”_

I feel the heaviness that’s been bearing down on me start to lift off.

Oh - you care how I feel...

That’s so...

Oh. Jim.

I pull you into a hug. “Thank you,” I murmur. “That helps... and I _know_ you can take care of yourself, it’s not that. It’s just... the world is a scary place,” I say, holding on to you desperately. I don’t know what else to say. I want to be bigger and stronger than the scariest threat out there. I want to find every potential threat to you... root them out... destroy them all.

“The man who - _hurt_ you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Do you know where I might be able to find the fucker?”

I pull back to look at you, unable to read your expression. “Sorry, if that’s too - something. Whatever. Just tell me to sod off...” I mutter.

_I'm sure I will get tired of your protectiveness at one point but that point is not now. It's *so* heartwarming to have someone who cares for me and wants to protect me from *everything* that could hurt me, be it evil punters or malicious housemates. I look at you smiling, but you're scowling as you're thinking of the lowlife that raped me._

_I sigh. "He was not from around here... from down Limerick way I'd say from his accent; didn't sound like he'd been in Dublin long, quite possibly just here on a visit. I've never seen him again - he'd be dead otherwise," I state with confidence. I was young and scared then - I'm more experienced and resourceful now. I've done a lot of practising in how to disarm people with knives. Haven't had to use it in practice yet - but I'm pretty sure I could._

I gaze at you, the darkness that flashes through your eyes when you speak of him - whispers of dark, terrible things rising from the abyss. I shiver, and then hold your face in my hands.

"I believe you," I murmur. "I won't say I'll stop worrying about your safety, because that's who I am. But I suspect anyone that threatens you again will be in for a nasty surprise... give 'em hell, Jim..."

I whisper and press my lips to yours.

_"Oh, I will," I growl darkly._

_Well. So much for taking the Tiger home. Shit... what was I thinking._

_I sigh._

_"I'm sorry Tiger. I didn't mean to - keep secrets or anything. It's just that - 'hey by the way, I work as a prostitute' isn't *really* what you want to tell a boy you want to impress."_

_I snuggle up to you, wipe at your wet cheeks. "I didn't mean all those things I said..."_

Part of my brain is occupied with the thought ‘my boyfriend works as a prostitute... how can I be alright with this for a month!!’

less because of the morality or whatever, I don’t care - but - you’re so young and small... in such a vulnerable position with potential monsters -

God... I wish you’d let me give you enough money that you could quit immediately, but it seems to be a point of pride with you, and I don’t understand...

Anyway - you’re not angry anymore, and you’re being _so sweet_... It’s such a relief, after that volatile moment... it felt like it could have torn us apart, and I _don’t want to think about that_. I slide my arms around you, rest my head on your shoulder...

“I get it... my little hothead...” I smile faintly. “And I’m sorry if there are things I don’t understand...I’m trying...” I murmur.

Your arms tighten around me and I sniffle. God... would the assholes who I’d beaten the shit out of be shocked to see me now...

_"Mnot a little hothead," I pout, nuzzling into your chest, then lean back._

_"Sebastian... you've learned more about me in the last few days than those guys who've known me for ages. Talking about myself is *not* something I do... it's not safe. Best to not give away anything that doesn't benefit you. Can't trust anyone..."_

_I sigh. "It's a big deal for me, that I trust you. And part of me, the rational part, wants to know *why* I trust you; tells me it's stupid, that it's just chemicals clouding my judgement. Wants me to push you away and retreat in myself again. But - that is the scariest thing I can think of - losing you..."_

_I look at you and wonder where I was going with this train of thought._

_"So - yeah. I love you, I don't want to lose you, I trust you, and I'll kill you if you betray my trust, but I know you won't._

_How about you?"_

“How about me?” I echo. “Well, it’s a lot to take in, not even considering the threat to life and limb... give a fella a moment...”

I chuckle as I consider this. The Irish are known for their love of hyperbole, this I know - but somehow, deep down... I think you seem more than capable of doing it if someone were to cross the line and trample your heart. Me included.

“What sane person would enter into such an arrangement willingly?” I murmur, then take your hand and covering it with mine, I hold it to my heart.

“I’m not capable of betraying you, Jim...” I utter, gazing into your eyes. “I was a dead man before I met you - it was just a matter of time. You brought me back from the brink - so to my mind, my life belongs to you. And I swear by all that means _anything_ to me, I will do right by you. I _love_ you... like...” I think of similes and reject ‘like a flower loves the sun’ because, no - that’s not _us_.

“Like... a wolf adores the moon...” I say with a shiver. “You’re the night... and you’re in my veins, Jim...”

_I -_

_can't believe what you're saying. And yet I know it's true - I can see that; it's undeniable -_

_*Sebastian*..._

_I am the night in your veins..._

_Fuck all poetry in all languages in all the world. That's the most beautiful phrase I've ever heard._

_You're still looking at me like I *am* the moon, like I am the one thing that lights your night, and it makes my heart swell._

_"I love you too, Sebastian." I lean my head against your shoulder, and we sit there for a while, just holding each other._

Well... this was a rather intense experience, I think as I breathe you in.

I saw your horrid squat with your junkie pals... Stu divulged your secret life... you got hurt and angry... I got hurt and angry...

it could have gone so poorly at so many points; it could have shattered us. But it didn’t. If anything it made us stronger...

“I know this sucked, but - I feel closer to you...” I murmur against your ear. “I don’t want you to have to do this anymore, Jim. But - I’m glad you don’t have to hide it from me.”

_I just want to hide inside you. Just crawl into that strong loving body and stay there forever, curled up around your big warm heart._

_But you're going to have to go._

_It won't be for long. I'll take a hit and then it will be night before you know it._

_"Heh," I say. "I was keen to show off my boyfriend... didn't get much of a chance before I dragged him off to have a fight. Which they've all heard, because the walls are paper thin."_

_I shake my head. "L'enfer, c'est les autres... the world should just be you and me."_

_I try to snuggle closer but I'm already wrapped around you like a baby monkey._

Fuck... I'm still reeling from everything that happened, but all I can really focus on is you holding onto me. If I could get you any closer, I would...

"Well then they'll know you have a proper boyfriend if we're fighting..." I say playfully and kiss your forehead. "I wonder if we'll fight very often. And yes you _are_ a hothead," I say, tickling you.

You protest, giggling - I laugh. "Ohh... the Kitten is ticklish..."

_"You want another fight?" I challenge, but you're tickling me, so it comes out giggling, which is rather less threatening than I was hoping to be._

_"You *do* like living dangerously, don't you? Don't you know what happens when you tickle a hothead kitten?" I rawr at you with my nails, but you grab my hands, and then we are rolling round on the mattress laughing._

_We finish with me on top of you, holding your wrists next to your head, you pretending to be surrendered._

“Mmnh... just where I like to be...” I purr. “Is this how all our fights will end? With me subdued and underneath you?” Feigning innocence, I pretend to resist again your grip. “There’s just - no escape - from your wicked ways!“ I lament, but I can’t help breaking out into a grin.

_"No need to have a fight... you'll end up subdued and underneath me regardless," I grin, then sink onto your body and take you in a deep kiss, which you return wholeheartedly._

_Too soon, I pull back._

_"You're going to have to leave... don't want to upset your mam..."_

My head falls to the side. “Aaah... you’re right...” I sigh, feeling my spirits crash to the ground. I look back at you, your beautiful face...

“Fuck, Jim...” I mutter. “A few hours away from you feels impossible... how am I going to make it through a month?”

_My thoughts exactly. But I don’t want to voice it - I don’t want you to leave, but I also don’t want to get you into trouble which might mean you’ll be taken away. If you disappear now, your parents *are* going to search for you. You’re right that the best thing to do is wait a bit before you come back._

_But I dread it immensely. It’ll be so tempting to just drown in smack until you’re back - but I have to keep looking for Georgie, and I have to try to cut the smack rather than getting further into it - I want you to have a useful, healthy, sexy boyfriend, not a half-wasted junkie. And quitting smack is a horrible and embarrassing affair - I’d rather neither you nor Georgie have to see it._

_When you’re gone, I’m going to finish that bunker and put all my old pain in there, seal it with lead and bury it three miles underground. And then I’m going to use those chemicals you provide me with and my not insignificant willpower to get clean. And when you come back, you’ll have a brand new and improved boyfriend._

_You deserve nothing less._

_“Off wit’ ye,” I sigh. “And don’t enjoy the play too much - I want you to love it when you see it with me.”_

Ugh... I'll be counting the minutes until I can see you again. I feel like the moment I step away from you, I'll be left with a hole in my insides.

I look up at you glumly. "Yeah... alright. I should go. Don't worry, I'll be thinking of you the whole time. And trying not to get too excited..." I kiss you ruefully. "I'll enjoy it far more with you..."

_Reluctantly I disentangle my limbs from around you. Can't you just carry me around as a new, hip accessory?_

_I sigh. "I'll walk you to the bus stop. At least we know Stu and Victoria are on again tonight... so - where do you want to meet?"_

"Hmm... I'll be dressed up for the theatre, but I don't want to waste time going back to change... is there somewhere we can meet for a drink after? Where I won't be jumped for being -" I raise an eyebrow at you.

"A posh English wanker?" you suggest with an innocent smile.

I flash a smirk at you. "You're the promising young criminal who's shagging one..."

_I think - what clothes do I have that would fit whatever you'll be wearing?_

_Oh - what *will* you be wearing? I suddenly have visions of you in full white tie - oh god I *will* ravish you the moment I see you -_

_\- no people don't wear white tie to the theatre. A dinner suit? Will you wear a cummerbund? A *waistcoat*?_

_Oh god I can wait to peel you out of it... or have you slowly strip - imagine having an English Lord do a striptease for you..._

_ending up on his knees..._

_You're still looking at me._

_Right._

_"You're at the Gate Theatre, so let's meet at Madigan's, that's a pretty pub - James Joyce used to drink there." I describe to you how to get to the pub - it's conveniently close to the theatre, but not *so* close that it's likely Lord and Lady Moran will decide to wander over._

_Not long._

_"What time will you be free?"_

There’s a look in your eye - intrigue and lust. Mmm... what do you have planned for a posh wanker, my dear Kitten?

God... you know which theatre I’ll be at - I shouldn’t be surprised by anything, I suppose...

“Play’s at seven... I have no idea if they’ve planned for dinner before or after, but I’ll meet you by ten. I’ll just give the Victoria excuse, and they’ll be shoving me out the door. No idea that I’ll be lured to your lair... a proper gentleman in the clutches of an evil genius...whatever will he do?” I smile at you rakishly.

_Ten, Jimmy. It's only a couple of hours. You should maybe eat something too. Shoot up. And before you know it your prince will be there. Well-cultured - and well-dressed..._

_"There's no saying what an evil genius might do when confronted with a proper gentleman... he's never met one before..." I grin._

My hand flies up to my chest. “What?” I ask, feigning indignation. “Sir! How _dare_ you imply such a thing... I’ll simply have to show you tonight... How _good_ and _proper_ I can be...”

I let a leer rise slightly to my lips.

Proper bad boy...

proper deviant...

mmm...

_"Are you going to be *good* for me, Sebastian?" I smile, stroking your face, seeing your eyes grow large. Oh, my darling... I can't wait either._

_I wish I could give you something of mine, something to keep with you when we're not together, something you can touch... I don't have any jewellery, or anything like that... I do a mental inventory of my possessions. Frightfully few, and nothing that could be considered a 'keepsake'. Maybe I should steal you a ring before you leave - you could never wear it though..._

_I kiss you deeply, then sigh._

_"We best get you to that bus..."_

I groan and get up. My skin is still tingling from where you touched me, and my lips are swollen from your kiss.

We leave the room and I say farewell to your mates, who seem rather in awe. Stu is sleeping on a dilapidated sofa - god knows what he’s in for when he awakes. But at least you’ll be here to haul his arse up to meet Victoria - the last thing I need is her calling up the manor to demand why her gentleman caller stood her up.

We trudge to the bus stop, but then I look at the time and realize I’d better take a taxi instead. I flag one down and stare at you ruefully - I can’t kiss you but I’m not going to stop myself from hugging you.

“I love you,” I whisper into your ear. “See you in a few hours...”

I force myself to pull away so you don’t get any undue attention when you head home alone.

I get into the taxi, and I give the driver the address. Then we stare at each other mournfully through the window as the car drives away.

I let my head fall back against the seat. Fuck... why is this so hard??

I wish I could have a cinematic moment of telling the taxi to _stop_ , and then chasing after you, and we head out together into the sunset, never to be parted... but this scenario would only end with police involvement and a team of private investigators - I cringe at the thought of a weeping mother showing up at our flat, pleading with me to come home... and a red-faced father, screaming insults at both of us.

No _fucking way_ \- I don’t want either of us subjected to that; we’ve been through enough. It’ll have to be a clean break.

One more month...

And away from that nightmare for _good_...

I think of your small form staring after me as the taxi drove off, and I pray to a god I don’t believe in that you’ll be safe until I can be your protector for always.

_Of course. The bus takes too long; you better take a taxi._

_I don't think I've been in a taxi in my life. Mam would never spend money on such a wasteful luxury - if she had money for a treat, we might get a nice toy, or go to the cinema. Squandering money on transport that is just a bit quicker seems so... frivolous._

_I sigh. One day, Jimmy, you too will take taxis, because your time is more valuable than the money wasted on a cab. You're a genius. You will carve out a place for yourself._

_Your words echo around my head. The whispered 'I love you...'_

_I play it over and over as I walk back home._


	15. This Feeling

I slink into the manor, check that the coast is clear, and start heading up the stairs.

“Sebastian!”

I heave a sigh and turn around.

“ _Hello_ , Father... looking forward to the theatre? I certainly am!” I say brightly.

He looks at me like I’ve asked him if he can fly. “The theatre?” he asks disdainfully. “I’m not going to see a frivolous play by that overrated fop. I’ll be joining you and your Mother for dinner afterwards.”

“Oh, Victoria and I have plans for after,” I say, pulling a face. “So sorry I can’t join you...”

He stares at me. “You’ve made quite an impression with your young lady... she’s called for you twice. Where the devil have you been?”

“Looking for a gift for tonight. Isn’t that how you treat a young lady?”

He harrumphs. “Don’t spoil her, for heaven’s sake... she’ll be unmanageable...”

 _Unmanageable_? Has he _met_ her??

I roll my eyes. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

“Yes. Well. Don’t let her sink her claws into you too deeply, boy. It’s unseemly.” He sniffs. “When you call her back, do ask how her father is doing. Sir Clement is an important contact for this family...”

“Noted!” I say cheerfully, and take the stairs two at a time. I slip into my room and fall onto the bed. Then I look at the phone, sigh heavily, and begin to dial.

_When I come back in, Stu's still asleep - or pretending to be. I resist the urge to kick him awake - I do still need him._

_Sharky and Jenny have disappeared - Bennie never moves from his chair in front of the telly except to get gear or go to the loo, so is still sitting there, eyes firmly on the screen._

_I head to my mattress. I'll kick Stu awake if he doesn't get up in time for his date - but for now there's no use. He's an arrogant wanker and I don't want to get into an argument and risk him getting so worked up he'll refuse to see Victoria, or threaten to spill the beans to her._

_I sigh as I cook up. I do hope he's not going to be asking for money. I know you'd happily give him some, but - ugh. He's not a heavy user, and if he weren't sleeping right now, he'd have plenty of time to get a client in before seeing Victoria._

_I plunge the heavenly solution to all problems into my vein._

_Blissful quiet..._

“Hello?” Victoria’s voice sounds remarkably cheerier than every time we’ve talked before.

“You know, Victoria... you’re supposed to be my alibi. It doesn’t work as well when you’re calling me relentlessly...” I say pointedly.

“Oh hel _lo_ , my besotted beau!” she chirps. “Well, you’re a clever boy, I’m sure you thought of a suitable excuse...”

“Really not the point, Victoria...” I say, rubbing my eyes and trying to remain patient. “This is supposed to make things easier, not create more chaos for me to deal with...”

“Oh don’t be dull, Sebastian...” she chides. “You’ll never keep your low-class lady friend’s interest if you’re a _bore_...”

I rake my hand through my hair. “Thanks ever so much for the advice... And how was your evening, my dear?” I ask, dripping politeness.

“As if you give a shite... it was _glor_ ious...” she giggles. “God, that boy! Not that _your_ cock wasn’t a joyride to pleasure town. But your man _Stu_... god, he can really spin a girl’s head...”

My pride momentarily stung, I stare at the phone. _I know how to spin a girl’s head_ , I want to snap. _I just couldn’t be arsed!_

Jesus, Moran... stop being daft. This is a good thing...

“That’s great,” I enthuse. “So you have another date tonight, I hear...”

“Yeah... I’m not finished with that boy yet...” she says with satisfaction.

“I’m thrilled to hear it. So I can count on you for the rest of the week?” I say emphatically.

“Hmm?” She says, sounding distracted.

“Oh, sure thing, Sebastian... I’ll make them think I’m mad for you... I’ll call every day.”

I hesitate. “Well, you don’t have to go overboard...”

“By the time you leave, they’ll think all I want in _life_ is an enormous diamond on my finger and a brood of your noble English babies...”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

She laughs in delight. “This week is going to be craic... ta ta for now, Sebastian Moran!”

I hear a dial tone and I stare at the phone with an open mouth. Fuck... I hope she’s not even more of a handful than I expected...

There’s a knock on the door, and I hang up. “Yeah?”

“Sebastian? I hope you called Victoria back?” Mum’s voice is like sunshine.

“Yes, Mum...”

“Wonderful! The car will be taking us in an hour...”

“I’ll be ready,” I call back, then pick up the phone again. I should call now to see if there are tickets for tomorrow... god, I hope so. I’m dying to go out with you on the town...

_I doze for an hour or two, entering the mind map and replaying the events of the previous two nights in delightful snippets, from different camera angles, focussing on your face, your voice..._

_Eventually I have a stroll around town, seeing Moranic art on all billboards, graffiti, posters._

_I approach the building site where the bunker is being constructed. It seems to be going well - my feeling good over the past few days has made the site, before a howling wasteland where the wind whipped grated glass into your eyes, mouth, and skin; calmer and more accessible. The bunker is being built to my specifications - metres-thick high walls around the entire block, lined with thick lead sheets, impenetrable from inside or out. Once it's closed up, I'll be free from the horrors of my past... ready to build a new life, like a human being._

Knowing I’m going to skip the late dinner, I wrangle some food from the kitchen. After I stuff myself solid, I dress up as expected and stare at myself in the mirror.

Charcoal dinner suit. Waistcoat. Indigo-coloured tie (which I happen to know does wonders to my eyes).

I know I look good... but I can’t help wondering, will you be as attracted to me looking like this? You did seem intrigued at the thought - I watch as my reflection smiles slowly at me.

Mmm - could be fun, I think and watch my eyes gleam with anticipation.

_When I arise, it's quarter past nine. Stu's gone - smart move. I have a quick shower and put on my best clothes - unfortunately the same clothes I wore on Sunday. Still, I won't stand out too badly._

_I get the bus into town, am at the pub at quarter to ten, order a coke. The place is full, but I see two ladies start to take their bags and put on their jackets, so I manage to snag their table when they leave._

_Expectantly I look at the door, waiting for the most beautiful boy to ever walk the streets of Dublin to walk in._

The play is good, but it’s hard to focus. Anyway - I have tickets in my pocket that I picked up for tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you...

I exchange pleasantries with Mum and her guest - she had invited a lady along to replace my asshole of a father. And then the lady sent her daughter, with the excuse of a last-minute migraine.

Are you fucking kidding me, I think as I see the girl coming up to us in the lobby with a seductive smile. Mum’s is gracious and talkative, I’m polite and quiet, and the girl is eyefucking me the entire time.

Good god... I’m shocked my suit didn’t go up in flames.

During Act I, I feel a hand steal along my thigh... I take the hand, kiss it, and place it firmly on her lap.

During the interval, the young lady hints at getting together at the weekend.

Mum smoothly distracts us both by launching into an irrelevant story about finding the dress she’s wearing tonight. Thank god.

During Act II, I suddenly find a hand on my cock. I look up to see the young lady smiling slyly and gesturing towards the exit sign. I carefully remove that hand from little Seb. Then I wink at her and shrug. She seems confused, but doesn’t try again.

After some polite small talk after the play, I tell them that regretfully I can’t join for dinner. The girl looks like she wants to throw a fit, until I grin at her and say I hope we meet again. Then she’s all smiles again, shooting flirtatious looks at me. Behind her, Mum is shaking her head and smiling surreptitiously. I shrug at her with a wry smile and then I’m off like the wind.

And finally the pub is in sight. God, my heart is _racing_... every time we’re separated, it’s an eternity...

every time we’re reunited, I think my heart might burst.

I open the door and scan the room.

Whoa - crowded. But - there you are! I sidle up to the table, beaming at you.

“There don’t appear to be any free seats tonight,” I say in a friendly voice, leaning towards you. “Might I share your table?”

_Oh._

_My._

_God and all the saints._

_You in a suit._

_*Tailored* suit, of course. Light wool blend. Silk tie. *Waistcoat*. Gleaming leather shoes._

_I have to swallow before I can give you my answer. Your eyes are gleaming - you are aware of the effect you're having and are enjoying it._

_"- please -" I manage in the end, gesturing to the free seat._

_"How are you-" you begin. "How was the play-" I ask at the same time. We both laugh, a little bit self-consciously, like this really is a first meeting._

_A girl in an elegant navy dress walks up to our table. "Hi Sebastian," she smiles, ignoring me._

You’re back to being quiet and self-conscious like at the beginning, and I’m completely transfixed. I hear my name, and I turn in irritation. Who the fuck -

Her _again?_ What, did she _follow_ me??

I stare at her aghast for a moment, before I settle my expression to neutral and pleasant.

“Oh... hello again. I thought you were off to dinner...” I say cheerfully enough to cover up my unease. I turn towards you, and can’t make out your expression. You don’t think I was on a _date_ , do you??

“This young lady joined us at the theatre when her mum came down with a migraine,” I explain, trying to beam ‘sorry!!’ at you through my eyes.

She stares at me expectantly. Shit... What the fuck was her name?

“Olivia,” she says, looking momentarily irritated. But then she returns to smiling and playing with her hair.

“Olivia, this is Jim...” I tell her with a tight smile. “We’re just having a quick drink before we head out...”

_Who. Are. You._

_And why are you looking at *my* Sebastian in such a possessive way._

_A dark cloud rises inside me._

_'Hello again?'_

_*What* - hello again!?_

_I thought you were at the theatre with your *parents*, Sebastian?_

_I feel inside my pocket for my knife -_

_*what are you going to do with a fecking knife Jimmy?*_

_I don't know... yet..._

_Mum. Migraine._

_Riiight._

_You're looking desperate - guilty? Sad your *date* followed you here? Did you fuck her in the interval, Sebastian?_

_I stand up, glaring at the girl._

_She looks in my direction, dismissively, but her expression changes when she sees mine. Her eyes grow large._

_I take one step towards her._

_"Piss. Off." I growl._

“Ex _cuse_ me?” she says in a voice that’s one part indignation, one part anger, and three parts alarm. Which then ramps up her indignation and anger more, as her mouth tightens and she crosses her arms.

“ _Sebastian_. Are you going to let your very rude friend speak to me like this?” she demands.

Fucking perfect. You look like you’re going to _lunge_ at her any moment. I step partway in between you and her, and throw on a charming smile - but I can’t quite siphon away the edge from my voice.

“Olivia, I’m terribly sorry but we have plans... I’m afraid this is not a good time...”

“Not a good time?” she echoes in disbelief. “What was all that about in the lobby, then?” She smiles seductively and leans towards me. “Mmm, Olivia... I hope we meet again...” she drawls and I wince. She’s exaggerating but... I do sound like that with women, don’t I...

“And what about when you smiled at me all coyly - like you wanted me to follow?” she demands triumphantly.

“Yes, what about that, Sebastian?” I hear you mutter under your breath.

Seriously??

I shoot you a look like ‘come _on_ ‘ and smile apologetically at her. “I assure you I did _not_ intend to make that impression - as you can see, I have plans tonight. I meant that I’m sure we’ll run into each other again at a future event, and _won’t_ that be lovely...” My polite voice is veering into sarcasm now... I’m not going to stop myself for long from telling this girl to sod off...

She’s staring at me now with the same indignation that she directed at you just a moment before.

I’ve desperately been trying not to look at you for your reaction, so Olivia won’t put two and two together and conclude ‘Sebastian’s on a hot date with his rude, angry friend’.

Although... now that we’ve decided to run away together, does it matter? Maybe I should come out to the silly bitch right here and now...

Only - she’ll definitely tell her parents, and god knows how many people they’ll tell, and then I’ll have to deal with an entire month of Father freaking out and Mum sedating herself...

So what’s the alternative, Moran?

“Olivia, this is rather awkward...” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I’m meeting another girl tonight... we both are. So, as I said - not the best time.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fuck’s sake... is _that_ the problem? What are you doing tomorrow?”

_You step in front of her. *Protecting* her._

_She does a beautiful imitation of your seduction. Oh, yes. You can be *so* charming, *can't you*. Too bad it was misinterpreted._

_Then you tell her you're meeting another girl and anger flares up even more - stop it Jimmy. You are the 'other girl'._

_She's *still* trying to hook up with you?!_

_That's it. She's dead._

_My fingers clench around the knife in my pocket. It's going to feel *so good* to plunge it into that tanned flesh; wipe that arrogant smirk from her face..._

_*No, Jimmy!*_

_I freeze. That's Georgie's voice._

_*Please Jimmy...*_

_It tears at my heart to hear him plead like that - he never pleaded like that with me; he never needed to, I always was good to him –_

_... but if I kill this bitch I'm done for; it's a crowded pub, lots of people will see it, I'll be arrested and the key thrown away... and I'll never see Georgie again..._

_I leave my hand in my pocket, swallow._

_"Tomorrow, my darling, he's seeing our Janie. As well as tonight. And yesterday. And the day after tomorrow._

_So to get it through your thick ugly skull - he. Is. Taken._

_And even if he weren't - do you honestly think he'd be keen to see your acne-riddled face in the morning? Or do you kick your lovers out before you take off your make-up? It's a shame, isn't it, how all that shit clogs your pores even more, so it just gets worse, so you'll need thicker and thicker foundation to cover it... you'll have a face full of scars when you're thirty."_

_She's looking at me with an open mouth, her eyes huge, filling with tears._

_"Now. I am not telling you again._

_*Piss. Off.*"_

I steal a glance at you, and you look -

What's in your pocket? Oh _fuck_ , what are you going to do??

I tense and prepare myself to shove the clueless girl out of the way, even if it's onto the floor.

But then - your posture changes and you launch into a stream of insults so vicious my mouth falls open. Olivia is in tears and your eyes are positively gleaming -

I need to shut this down - _now_.

My mouth snaps shut. "You'd best go," I tell her, steering her gently towards the door. "Sorry..."

She pushes past people in a daze. Before she exits she shoots back a venomous look at both of us.

Shaking my head, I turn back towards you. "Well, that went well..." I say drily. "Definitely won't fuck things up..."

You turn your furious gaze towards me.

"Jim! You don't _really_ think I was hooking up with her do you?" I demand.

_People are looking at us._

_"Home. Now." I growl, and storm out of the pub. I hear you rushing behind me, your words floating through the rain - 'Jim - wait', 'Jim - what do you think happened??', 'Jim for fuck's sake - she followed me -'._

_I keep walking, the rain making rivulets on my cheeks, big paces; if I keep walking I don't have to stop and think - 'Mmmm, Olivia...'_

_I try to walk even faster, but your hand shoots out and grabs my jacket. "Jim!"_

_I kick behind me, but you're faster. You shove me against the wall, immobilizing my arms and legs so I can't hit or kick. I look at you furiously._

_"Will you fucking *listen* Jim!? What the fuck do you think happened?? She tried to come on to me; I tried to give her the brush-off by saying we might meet again, she took it the wrong way -"_

_Your face is near mine. I headbutt you, you drop me._

I yelp at the sudden impact against the bridge of my nose. Oh _motherfucker_ , that hurt... cursing, I touch my nose gingerly. I suck in my breath, and my fingers come away red.

“Alright... are we _done?”_ I snap. “She was a fucking guest of my mum’s! I don’t _know her_ , I don’t _want to,_ and I didn’t _fucking touch her!”_

A memory comes back to me, and I sigh heavily. “Except to get her hands _off me_... Look, I’m sorry but girls do come on to me! And sometimes they’re a bit relentless... it doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat on you, Jim! I _wouldn’t!”_ I stare at you in shock. How could you think that about me??

_"Oh sure!" I hiss at you._

_Part of me wants to take you in my arms, take your poor nose (*again*, Jimmy??), clean the blood, tell you I believe you, I'm sorry -_

_\- but the black bile is still burning inside..._

_"'Ohhh, I'm so sad, Jim, I *have* to go to the theatre with my *parents*, ugh...'" I imitate you. "Your mam sure looks young for her age! 'Mmmmmm, O*liv*ia... I sure hope we meet again...'" I drawl in your seductive voice._

“That’s _not_ what I said,” I snarl. “I didn’t even know the girl’s name, if you recall... I sure as fuck don’t talk that way in front of my mum. Who _bloody was there_ , by the way!”

Furiously, I rake my hand through my hair. “Honestly, Jim? Do you _really_ think I’m capable of lying to your face like that?! If I thought so little of you, why the _fuck_ do you think I’d be leaving home and school for you??”

_"Well are you?! Or do you just *say* you are, so you can keep shagging me for your Dublin adventure?! A nice girl during the evening and Jimmy for the night, like you did with Victoria?" I spit._

“Am I _what?”_ I shout. “Jesus fucking Christ! Don’t you _know_ what I would do for you??” I stare at you, angry and afraid. How the fuck did this go so wrong so fast?

I hear drunken giggles. “Lover’s spat?” A girl’s voice says, and laughter follows. I turn and stare furiously at the group of girls tottering on high heels, arms around each other.

“Oooh, aren’t they lovely...” another girl calls out. “Come have a drink with us!”

Catcalls follow and I turn to face you, rolling my eyes.

“ _Fuck_ them. Ask me whatever you want, Jim,” I say, clenching my jaw. “Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see.”

_Of *course* you lie - everyone lies - everyone cheats –_

_*Look into my eyes* -_

_no –_

_I look at the ground._

_"Jim," you repeat. "Look at me."_

_I don't want to._

_I know what I'll see._

_I look up. See your eyes._

_Hurt. Worried._

_Honest._

_I can tell when people are lying - there are blatant tells in the way they look, the way their voice sounds, the way their muscles tense -_

_You're not lying –_

_I was thinking you might be and I might be missing it because I'm in love with you - but it was the other way round. You were telling the truth and I missed it because I am so blind - so convinced I'll get hurt –_

_\- and I nearly drove you away -_

_\- and I got you into trouble –_

_\- I fucked up everything –_

_I burst into tears._

I see realization dawning in your eyes.

Oh thank Christ... you see it don’t you? You see you can trust me -

Wait - what’s happening to your -

I watch in horror as your face crumples.

“Oh no... Jim...” I say softly. I look around and curse as I see people wandering along the street. Then I grasp your shoulder and lead you around the corner into an alleyway -

\- where I pull you into my arms and stroke your hair as you cry.

“Jim...” I say helplessly. “You believe me, don’t you? What’s wrong?”

_Thank you for dragging me off the main street... and for not telling me to fuck off, and not running away..._

_I sniffle into your shoulder, hating myself. I was going to be *good* for you..._

_"I'm so sorry Seb..." I hiccup._

_"I'm so sorry... I was so angry... I *convinced* myself you were cheating on me, just - I don't know why..."_

_I do. I think you're too good for me. That I'm deluding myself that you're in love with me - how could someone like you love someone like me? You must be playing me, must be using me - I'm an entertainment on your holiday, nothing more... must be, right?_

_Except I *know* it's more than that, I can see it in everything you do, everything you say, how you look... you couldn't be faking this, not if you were the best actor in the world, not to *me*..._

_But I didn't want to believe it._

_"I'm so sorry Seb... that girl - she's going to be furious... is she going to complain about you? Did I - wreck our cover?"_

_Are you not going to be able to see me as much because I *fucked up*?_

“Don’t worry about _that girl_...” I soothe. “It seems likely she’ll have a few words to say about me after the epic tongue lashing you gave her...” I chuckle despite myself. “But - it doesn’t matter, Jim. If it gets back to my parents, I’ll deal. They’d give me a lot more grief if I’d made Victoria angry... oh, she called me by the way. Stu is apparently _very skilled_ in the boudoir, and she couldn’t be happier. So maybe hold off on tearing him to shreds?” I say with a wry grin. God, you _are_ a hothead... but I understand all too well...

Once the darkness gets inside you, it can be nearly impossible to resist...

I stare at you - my wild, dark-eyed wonder.

Who not only gave me his heart, but had a violent meltdown at the thought of me being with someone else, and then felt so terrible at what he put me through, he cried buckets.

Oh Jim...

“ _You’re_ what’s important to me,” I say fervently, wiping away your tears. “I’m just sorry I’m still playing this fucking game with my parents. It’s just - if it’s the end... I want to do right by Mum, and not make it any harder on her than it has to be. But I’m sorry it means... engaging in this stupidity... being apart for a month...” I say, feeling anguished. “Honestly, if it’s too much, I won’t... just tell me what you want, Jim...”

_"But - I said you were seeing Janie - not Victoria..." I sniffle._

_But I realize it's unlikely the girl is going to give all the details of her encounter with us in the pub to her parents. It doesn't paint her in a very good light after all... mistaken an innocent comment for a come-on, gone to throw herself at you, rejected for another girl, and insulted by the scary rude brother of said girl... something she may share with her best friend, sworn to secrecy, but not with her mum who would get it back to your mum. I dare breathe a bit again._

_I look at the blood on your face - fuck's *sake* Jimmy, will you stop trying to break his nose? It's much too beautiful..._

_"Come, let's go," I say, taking your hand. "We need to get those peas back on your nose... I'm so sorry, I do love your nose, honestly... you had everything else immobilized; it was the only part of you I could reach..."_

_You take out a handkerchief, wipe the blood from under your nose. It's stopped bleeding._

_We exit the alley, and I nod to the right. "It's not far to the Fitzsimonses' from here; less than a mile."_

_I think about what you said. You would actually break your mum's heart to make me feel better? That's so sweet, but - I can't. Not that I give a fuck about your mum, but you would feel guilty. And if she'd get the guards involved, and they find me - no. Best to stick to the original plan. I'll survive a month - and it gives me a chance to get my shit in order._

Your hand in mine feels so good - I let out a shaky breath, not realizing how much tension I was feeling. Then I squeeze your hand as we walk down the laneway.

I give you a rueful smile as I let go of it as we head down the street again, in view of people leaving the pubs.

“When we live together...” I say, gazing at you. “I’ll be holding your hand and kissing you every chance I get...”

You beam at me.

“Just you wait... you’ll have to fight me off with a stick,” I wink at you as we stroll into the night.

_"I will," I smile, beaming at the thought of us *living together*, and you walking through *our* flat, taking my hand and kissing it... poor Georgie rolling his eyes at his brother and his boyfriend being so sickeningly sweet, but secretly loving it..._

_"Fight you off with a stick..." I muse. "How does a cane sound?"_

_Your gasp tells me exactly how that sounds. I will have to acquire a good cane somewhere..._

You seem relaxed now... happy.

I sigh with relief as we walk through the darkness.

We don’t talk - we don’t need to. We’re on the same page again... god, I’ve never felt like this before.

I’d loved David - it was sweet, it was exciting, it was _fun_. We’d explored our sexuality together, along with intimacy... we’d gotten drunk and laughed our asses off... I don’t like to think about it, but how long would we have lasted, if-?

I swallow hard.

David was so right for me at that time of my life, when I desperately needed love and support. He’d pushed me to not hide behind walls of bravado and anger...

Who would I be now without that tender, volatile journey together? I really don’t want to know. I just wish...

I look at the stars, trembling.

I feel your head turn. I look back at you, feeling love flood through me.

“You probably don’t believe in silly things like Fate...” I say slowly. “but everything changed when I met you... Everything. Is it all just random d’you think?”

_Eh - yeah?_

_But that's not romantic to say, is it._

_Nor is it acceptable to laugh at one's sweet companion who is trying to see meaning in this -_

_but - doesn't it have meaning if it's random?_

_"I don't believe in fate, or predestination, or determinism," I reply slowly, looking at the stars briefly visible through a rapidly moving hole in the clouds, then back at you. "I believe we have free will, albeit influenced by our biology and situation. And - doesn't that make it better? The fact that we've not been thrown together by some predetermined force, but that we *saw* each other, got to know each other, and both *chose*, with the full power of our will, to be together. I am with you because there's nothing I want more. You are *my* choice, not some god's playing dice."_

Yes... of course you would think that... Was I ridiculous to think otherwise?

“Hmm... I wasn’t thinking fate, exactly...” I muse. “I just can’t imagine us not meeting... how could you and I be in the world, and not come together?”

This is sounding downright esoteric, isn’t it... huh.

And distinctly un-esoteric... You smile slyly at ‘come together’, and I chuckle. “Yeah, that too... we fuck so good, baby,” I purr. “It would have been a travesty for us to not experience it. Or to meet. Never thought this way before, by the way... about two people being ‘meant to be’, however that works. But you’ve spun my head a little...” I admit, staring at you dreamily.

_I'm about to explain to you that it's all hormones and symmetry, but -_

_there is *something* different about you. I mean, Stu's symmetrical and sweats testosterone. And yeah, I would shag him - but this utter *madness* is something else entirely._

_Still - *everyone* feels this at some point in their lives, allegedly. I can't believe it, but all the books and magazines say so. And often it goes away - again, I can't believe it, but evidence says it is so._

_*Anyway*. Poor boy is trying to be romantic, and you're being cerebral. Get out of your head Jimmy. Try speaking from your heart._

_I try to 'listen to my heart' as they say, but it's not saying very much._

_And you're still looking at me, and the dreamy gaze is changing into a more uncertain one._

_"I can't imagine not meeting you," I say. That's true. "If I think back to how my life was before I met you - it was so bleak, so boring, so colourless._

_You - I don't know about meant to be, or whatever, but you've given me life, Sebastian."_

_I put my hand on your shoulder, pull you close._

I grab you and spin you around, laughing. You protest mightily, then dissolve into laughter yourself.

“Ridiculous Tiger,” you huff, but your eyes are lit up.

I put you down, grinning.

God today was intense... I’m looking forward to having some much needed time to reconnect...

“So close to home...” I murmur. “Well, not quite ours. But I’m sure The Fitzsimonses are glad theirs is being put to good use... what a waste it would be if two young criminals in love weren’t shagging and sleeping and feasting on breakfast, hmm?”

_"I know!" I agree. "Just letting that comfortable bed stand empty, that luxurious stove neglected... and that in Dublin in the high tourist season! Irresponsible..."_

_We get to the street, but there are two people with dogs chatting too close to the Fitzsimonses' place, so I look at you and we walk on. I like how it only needed a glance from me for you to know what I meant. We do seem to understand each other without words - when we were fighting those guys you just were where I needed you to be as well._

_Heh Jimmy - don't *you* start thinking soulmate nonsense..._

_When we return fifteen minutes later the dog walkers have disappeared. It's also raining again, which is always good when you don't want to be seen. We enter 'our' house; you go straight upstairs, I get some lagers from the kitchen and join you._

_I am starting to really love this bedroom with its ugly and expensive William Morris floral wallpaper and hideous green carpet._

In the bedroom, I kick off my shoes haphazardly and go to take off my jacket. My fingers grasp the expensive fabric and I hesitate.

No - not yet, Seb. He may have plans for the posh boy in the nice suit...

I put my shoes back on, and go to the bathroom.

After I have a piss, I wash my hands and look at myself in the mirror.

I smooth the fabric, and strike a regal pose - then I stick my tongue out lasciviously, give my reflection the two-finger salute, and return to the bedroom.

I throw myself into the ridiculous rococo chair and wait.

_You sit in the chair, in the same pose as that first night, but looking so different. *You* aren't different. I noticed then how you were so utterly at ease in the environment, despite your punk clothes. And now - this suit seems to fit you, seems to *also* be you. Your Sebastianity is just so strong that no matter what you wear - or even if you wear nothing at all - you look like the world is just a set for you to move through, garlanding you as its undisputed star. Your smile lights up the room and makes it disappear into the background - there is only you, your beauty and majesty and strength and love..._

_I put the lager on the table, you reach out and open the can, have a sip. Even that doesn't look incongruous - not when you do it. I open my own, and suddenly feel self-conscious again. Should I apologize for earlier? Again? Or not mention it - oh fuck, your nose!_

_I dart back down and come back with a bag of frozen peas._

Your eyes sweep over me and look transfixed when you see me - mmm.

Transfixed Jim...

And then you look alarmed and guilty and you tear out the room and down the stairs...

What? Did you leave something on the stove??

Surely not...

Bemused, I continue to sip my lager and you return with a bag of peas.

Ah - yes.

“Thanks, Kitten,” I say, taking the peas and winking at you.

We both wince at the same time when I press the bag against my nose.

“Mnot a Kitten,” you say, rolling your eyes. But you stare at me with concern.

“Don’t worry... I’ve had much worse,” I assure you, bringing the can to my lips and tipping it back. “And look, I have the very best painkillers!” I hold up my can. Then I take your hand and hold it against my face, inhaling your scent. “Mmm... feeling better already...” I breathe.

_“Yes, but not from your lover, I’d hope... and not twice in a row,” I say guiltily. You were going to be *good*, Jimmy..._

_You grin carelessly though, and I feel better. It’s not looking too bad now._

_“So... how was the play?” I ask, a bit sheepishly. “If you could see any of it through the hordes of females throwing themselves at you...”_

_You chuckle. “I’m sorry... it’s not usually *this* bad. I guess they must see I’m in love... happiness attracts people. Oh, and the name Lord Moran also does it for some,” you scowl, looking angry._

_No no no, don’t look angry. That smile was a lot more attractive; you’re right._

_“Anyway, the play was good - I’m sure you’ll love it tomorrow night...” Your hand moves into your jacket and comes out with two tickets. I squee. “You got tickets?! That’s *amazing*! I’ve never been to the theatre! Oh -“_

_Damn, Jimmy, you don’t *think*, do you -_

_“I don’t have - is this ok to wear? I’m going to look like you picked up a charity case...”_

I watch you, my heart expanding - you’re so excited and happy, and then - your face creases with worry.

“It’s totally fine, Jim...” I soothe. “People just wear whatever they want... ”

Your face relaxes slightly, but there’s still some concern...

Hmm...

I put my lager down on the table next to me. “Shit!”

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“I missed your birthday!” I say, scowling for a moment before I grin at you. “Any ideas about a gift that you’d like? A new ensemble, perhaps?”

Are you going to find that patronizing, though?

“Only if you’d enjoy something new, I mean... You look great as is,” I assure you. “But... shopping together could be fun?”

_I'm torn._

_I'm *very* torn._

_My first impulse is to scoff and tell you I don't need your bloody charity._

_My second impulse is to go all starry-eyed - a *suit*? Could I actually get a nice *suit* to wear?_

_My third impulse is to scoff at *myself* - when am I ever going to wear a suit?_

_Well - if we're together, we might have more opportunities -_

_\- but am I not just going to grow out of it - I don't want you to waste your money -_

_\- would you actually buy me *nice clothes*?? That's the sweetest thing - *ever* -_

_I could never accept it though -_

_but - you would want your date to look nice, when we go to the theatre together -_

_I must be looking at you like a deer in headlights._

Oh, shit... you look frozen.

Did I fuck up again? What now??

“Only if you wanted to,” I say, fretting. “Honestly, we can just dress however we want. If you want to go in jeans, we’ll go in fucking jeans and still have more style than anyone there. I’m sure Oscar Wilde would approve...” I smile slyly.

Fuck... I didn’t offend you, did I??

_Jeans... yes..._

_I must look disappointed, because you lean closer. "Jim - do you *want* new clothes?"_

_I look away. "Yes - no... I don't know..."_

_"Jim - I would *love* to go shopping with you. Get you something you really feel good in. Show off your gorgeous body..."_

_I look back at you. Do you mean it?_

_"I guess... if it's not too expensive. I mean, I'm still - still growing. It wouldn't last too long. Don't want you to spend money and then grow out of it as soon as we're living together... and - I'm bound to gain some weight when I cut the smack - I'm not going to get fat! Just - a bit less skinny..."_

God, I’m hearing so much there... I have to stop myself to keep my mouth from falling open.

“Jim, I’m - not at all concerned about expense, or you outgrowing it or gaining weight, or any of that. I just want you to enjoy your evening out. Being mad and impulsive and romantic is what we’re supposed to be doing, right? We’re adolescents - our poor undeveloped prefrontal cortices can’t be expected to stop this foolishness...” I say innocently, making you laugh.

“So... if you feel like it tomorrow, we could do a little shopping... see what you like. Yes? We can even choose something for me, if you want.” I grin, shaking my head. “God, I wouldn’t say that to _anyone_. This is true love for sure... and going out on the town with my beautiful love sounds like the best evening _ever_...”

_You look so happy with the prospect... I guess it would be a disappointment to you if we weren't going to go shopping..._

_And... buy something for you?_

_I'm picturing us, far in the future, going to a proper tailor together, both getting fitted suits... me nonchalantly handing my card to the tailor..._

_"I will pay you back - once I have money," I blurt out._

Oh, Jim...

It’s terribly tempting to brush aside your insecurity about this issue, but - it’s obviously significant for you, and clearly I need to respect that.

“Alright, so pay me back... one day,” I say softly. “I have no doubt with your brain you’ll do well in life... and have everything you deserve...” I say, looking at you with pride.

_"I will," I say with determination. "And I'll buy you gorgeous suits. Oh! I completely forgot to mention - well, with everything happening - but - you look *amazing*. I mean - you look amazing whatever you wear - and when you're not wearing anything best of all, of course - but this suit looks *great* on you. No wonder Olivia couldn't keep her hands to herself... I mean, she still deserved anything she got, of course - *no one* touches what's mine..."_

_I move over to your chair, grab your tie, pull you towards me, kiss you._


	16. Is This Love

Hearing you talk about the future and then compliment me, I’m feeling so awww... but when your eyes glint and you get all territorial and dark, it quickly changes to ohhh... and by the time you grab me by the tie and haul me against you and kiss me possessively, my brain has officially melted.

“Fuck yes, Jim...” I breathe against your lips in between kisses. “Anyone - who touches your property - has it coming...”

And then we’re both smiling ferally as we kiss, and oh fuck, I’ve never felt so connected to another human... like we’re one being - a fierce, powerful being that no one should cross...

God... Jim...

_*My property.* God, yes - you're *mine*. My knight, my boyfriend, my Sebastian... *mine*._

_I moan into your mouth, then let you go. You look even more gorgeous now - wild-eyed, your lips red from the kissing, your eyes dark and large._

_I sit back in my chair. "Get up... and take off those clothes. Slowly..."_

_I lick my lips._

Ohh...

“Yes, _Sir_ ,” I smirk as you sit back like a king - just arrogant enough to set my head on fire.

Mmm... My fingers grasp my lapels, and I pull back the fabric - then I roll my shoulders one at a time so the jacket falls to the floor.

I wouldn’t give it another thought but I don’t want to be too blatant about how many good suits I have - so I drape the jacket over the back of a chair.

Our eyes meet and I feel a surge of heat through my body... my lips curl into a lazy smile, and I begin to loosen my tie...

_Your shoulders in a shirt are to die for. The tie slowly loosening... I wish we had music here, so you could do a proper striptease... with your moves, I'm sure it would be exquisite..._

_Not that I have anything to complain about now. Your eyes bore into mine and you smile promisingly as the tie comes off, and the buttons of the waistcoat are slowly undone._

Waistcoat joins the tie on the chair.

Shirt is slowly unbuttoned and a ripple of fabric later, it comes off.

I sit on the bed to kick off my shoes, and pull off my socks. I unfasten my trousers, and stand - the fabric falls slightly towards my hips. Your eyes move down, and god, if that doesn’t make my whole body feel inflamed...

I move towards you, my thumbs skimming my waistband... pulling down further, exposing my pants...

_You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the most beautiful boy to ever walk the streets of Dublin strip off a suit. And it’s entirely possible that I’m the only one who’s ever seen this. Not you taking off a suit - I’m sure many have had that pleasure - but doing it with such intensity, looking with such hunger, eagerness to please..._

_You’re standing in front of me in just your pants, looking at me. I nod down, and with smouldering eyes you lower your pants, step out of them._

_An almost imperceptible nod down again. And you sink to your knees._

_And I am king of the world._

There are so many people I’ve been in the presence of without clothing... if anything, it’s like a default for me. Clothing is more of a costume than anything - certainly in my world with the school uniforms and posh clothes...

But here and now, I am truly naked before you. For you.

I look up at you, feeling breathless. My skin feels like it glows everywhere you look... your gaze sweeps down then up, and my body heats up even more.

Fuck... What do you want, Jim? Tell me... please...

_I feel my eyes grow dark as I bend down to you._

_"So, tell me Sebastian... which bits of you did Olivia touch? Which bits need to be punished?_

_Did she shake your hand? Kiss your cheeks?"_

Oh shit...

Oh _shit_...

Seriously?

I blink up at you. “No... she - touched my thigh during the play...”

Your eyes narrow. You didn’t like that, did you.

I don’t really have to tell you do I? What does that mean, _punished?_ Surely you wouldn’t - hurt me _there?_

“Sebastian,” you say severely, interrupting my flow of thoughts, making me jump.

“Yes...”

“Is there more?”

Your eyes... god, your eyes...

“I moved her hand away...” I mumble.

“And then? Was that _all_ , Sebastian?”

You already know there was more from my face. I can’t even try to hide it at this point...

I groan. “Fuck! She grabbed my cock, alright? And I pushed her hand away! It’s not my fault...”

_Little *bitch*._

_I stroke your face._

_"Oh, Sebbie... I know it's not your fault..." You lean into my touch, your eyes closing._

_"You're still going to be punished, of course, my darling. You need to be purified of her touch before you can touch me again... you understand that, don't you?"_

I practically sag against you in relief. You’re not angry - with me, anyway. Thank Christ...

Eyes closed, I listen to your voice - so soothing, so severe...

punished... purified...

god, what does that mean?

“Yes...” I breathe against your hand, longing for more of your touch...

_You're already sunk into that place, that place you go where you are half in a trance, where you are mine, completely mine, and relishing it..._

_I stroke your hair. "So you moved her hand away from your cock and your thigh with your hand... and you steered her out of the pub using your hand as well. Your right hand each time?"_

I drift back to the theatre. She was sitting to my left.

_Hand on my thigh..._

_I lift it... to my lips._

I wince, remembering.

“Sebastian...” you say in a warning voice.

“Left hand in the theatre... I kissed her hand,” I blurt out. “Some of these high society girls react badly when they feel rejected... they can be spiteful, and I didn’t want anything to go wrong this week. I’m sorry, I probably just made things worse. That was stupid,” I mutter darkly. I take a deep breath and open my eyes to look at you.

_"You did what you thought was best, Sebastian. Don't be hard on yourself - I'm not angry at you," I say, looking into your dark blue eyes._

_"It's just that actions have consequences - even if those actions aren't yours. No one else is allowed to touch you. And if they do, you will suffer. Because you are mine, and it's what I want. Do you understand that?"_

You’re not angry... such a relief...

I couldn’t take it after how tumultuous today was...

I’m trying to follow the logic of what you’re saying, and struggling - then I realize. It’s not about logic...

It’s not about what’s fair, or reasonable, or right...

It’s about _Jim_.

Jim’s world. Jim’s rules.

_Jim’s possession..._

I shiver slightly, and gaze at you.

“Yes... anything you want. I’m yours - completely.”

_My heart melts and grows, my groin sizzles._

_Do you have *any* idea what those words do to me?_

_I want to drop to my knees and grasp you in my arms, crying with joy, but that would kind of break the moment._

_"My beautiful, sweet, brave Sebastian... I love you," I murmur._

_I pull you towards me, take you into a kiss. You lean up on your knees, eagerly responding to the kiss, but not touching me, not certain if you can. I lick your bottom lip, then bite it, bringing up blood. You groan into my mouth, and I lick up the blood, taste it, then do the same to your top lip._

Is that punishment, I think dimly as you lick the blood from my lips... my lips touched someone else’s hand... and now they’re bleeding.

You did warn me...

Fuck it feels good, though...

“Mmnh - love you -“ I murmur into your mouth. Our kissing deepens. God... so good... But what on earth do you have in mind for the thigh that another hand dared touch... and worse still, little Seb??

_Kissing with the taste of blood is even better than kissing without it... I'm pretty sure this isn't how normal people kiss, but you don't seem to mind, and your lips needed punishment, like I said..._

_"You taste divine, Sebastian... how am I going to survive for a month without tasting you? You'll have to leave me a vial of blood so I can have a drop every night to fall asleep to..."_

_I get up, warning you to stay put, and get one of Mr Fitzsimons' trusty belts._

_"Hold up your hands, my darling..."_

God, I never would have thought someone licking my blood would be so... erotic. But it is...

oh fuck it is...

God yes... take from me what you want...

Stay put. Hands. Yes.

Obediently I put my hands out and remain very still... watching you smile and run the belt through your fingers... suddenly you snap it and I jump.

I exhale, shivering...

_I take aim, lash across the palms of both your hands. You hiss and jump, start pulling your hands back, but stop, and hold them out again, trembling slightly._

Oh god...

that _fucking hurts_.

But I'll take it for you, Jim...

I said whatever you want...

I meant it.

My mind wanders again to what this could mean for little Seb, and suddenly you lash against my hands again.

"Fuuuck," I groan, pulling them back.

I inhale, hold out my hands, exhale, smile tremulously.

_That gesture, that push and pull... instinctively retreating your hands, because it hurts, I know, Sebastian... but then putting them back, holding them out again to be lashed, because *I* will it... and then you *smile* - so unbelievably sweet -_

_I lift up the belt, lash down again. Your face twists, you swallow, and hold them out again. I lash again, and you gasp, and you look so lovely, your eyes going damp..._

_I put down the belt and lift your right hand, kiss its glowing palm, then do the same with your left._

_"You are so incredibly beautiful, Sebastian... I love you so much."_

God... what pain you unleash upon me...

I realize my eyes are damp... but I barely notice, transfixed as I am by your beautiful face.

You seem so pleased...

and you kiss the pain, and it glows, and you bequeath such sweet words...

I sigh shakily. "Thank you... Sir. I love you too... my King...”

_I’m suddenly shocked out of the moment - is it hard on you, taking the pain? Is it too hard? Are you enjoying this? I know I am, but sex is a two-way street, Jimmy - it’s one thing spanking your arse; quite another to be lashing your hands..._

_But Little Seb is happily looking up at me... and you’re thanking me -_

_Alright, let’s continue. But keep an eye out Jim..._

_“Now, a hand on your thigh, you said?”_

_You nod._

_“Lean back on your hands, my love...” I direct. Your thighs are tightened as you comply._

_I move to your side and lash the belt over both thighs, just above the knee._

Oh god...

I brace myself and the belt lashes down -

Sharp, stinging pain...

I inhale sharply.

You lash again, higher...

I groan.

This is a dance, and the music is the lashing of the belt and the noises that escape from me.

_lash_

_gasp_

I look up at you, gazing into your dark, gleaming eyes. So beautiful. So _hot_. My cock twitches, and you smile.

_You seem to be enjoying this - yes, it hurts, but you love the pain - *my* pain..._

_I lash the length of your thighs, then stop, look at your cock._

_So do you._

_You swallow, look up at me._

_"Oh, Sebbie... such a beautiful cock, and all mine..." I let the belt stroke your shaft. Your cock twitches and a shiver runs through you._

_"I'm not going to whip it... it's too beautiful for that, and I may still want to enjoy it later." Your face looks not sure if you should be relieved or not..._

_"So, how to punish that beautiful, sensitive, wondrous part of you?" I muse, moving behind you, moving the belt around your wrists, tying them together, then moving to your front again._

_Keeping my eyes fixed on yours, I take off my shoes and socks, then my shirt and t-shirt, then slowly zip open my jeans, lower them, touching myself through my pants._

I shiver at the sensation of the leather against my cock, and suppress a wince.

Oh holy fuck, are you going to -

No? Then... _what?_

I find myself being trussed up again. As I watch you remove clothing, my mind grows silent - and then you start to touch yourself.

Oh god... so beautiful...

_"Wouldn't you like to be doing this, Sebastian?" I ask, and you nod - lost the power of speech?_

_"Answer me," I say sharply, and you say "Yes - oh god yes -"_

_I smile at you, then walk to the Fitzsimonses' wardrobe. Not quite what I'd store in there, but it has some useful things. I take out a scarf, fold it, check - it seems opaque enough. I head back to you and put it over your eyes, tie it behind your head, move the edges so you can't peek underneath. "How's that? Alright for your nose?"_

“S’fine,” I murmur, feeling crestfallen that I can’t see you in action anymore... but then curiosity takes over. And stimulation... I shiver as I kneel at your feet - naked, restrained, and now without sight.

At your mercy... utterly.

My cock grows harder.

I take in a shaky breath.

_I lower my pants, move in front of you, touch my cock to your face. You open your mouth, but I move just slightly away. You try to find me, your tongue coming out; I let you touch, occasionally, but not much, before I move again._

_If there's a hotter thing than a man bound, whipped, and blindfolded on his knees desperately reaching for my cock I haven't imagined it yet... and I have a rich imagination._

_I step back, look at you, then take one of the candles I put around the room and light it. You hear the lighter of course - what do you think I'm doing? Having a cigarette? Or have you guessed?_

_For now I leave the candle on the table, move back to you, gently push your shoulder so you're leaning slightly back, leaving your cock standing proudly free. Then I take the candle and hold it at an angle, so the wax drips onto your head._

Oh am I going to...

ohhh...

Jim... again??

You’re being such a _tease_...

I guess that’s what makes this punishment... right, Moran?

A lighter? What did you light?

now what?

“ _FUCK_ ,” I hear myself shout, as my body jerks back violently.

Oh, _motherfuck!!_

My eyes widen underneath the scarf as I fight back panic - my rational mind helpfully supplies that it’s ‘just’ candle wax. I’ve had it dripped on me before after all...

Yeah, but not on my fucking _cock_ , I howl back.

I groan, feeling the pulsing sting on my tender skin. My breath hitches in my throat as it slowly recedes...

I wait for what comes next, my breath uneven.

_"It's alright, my darling... I know it hurts..."_

_I lift the candle, let some more wax drop down, onto your shaft and your balls. You twitch, jerk, and breathe quickly and shallowly, but stay in position._

_Then I take the frozen peas, wrap the packet around you._

God... oh god...

The anticipation is killing me. But then I hear a sizzling sound, and something spills forth - the hot wax splashes over my cock, and I stifle my impulse to cry out.

Jesus Christ, I moan silently.

Then there’s sudden cold, and I hiss at the sensation. God, it’s not going away and against my heated skin it’s so intense...

A whine escapes my lips.

_Such intense responses to this sensitive area of Sebastian..._

_I remove the peas, let some wax drop again, then open the bag and get a few frozen peas, press them on different areas. I keep alternating - hot, cold, hot, hot, cold... the sensations must be confusing by now, your body just knowing it's being shocked, but not by what._

Each moment feels like an eternity, until it's subsumed by the next moment/eternity.

Heat is all there is in the universe...

then Cold...

and underpinning each eternity is You.

My body is reacting beyond my control, I'm jerking and making animal sounds.

My mind is struggling not to capsize in the maelstrom of sensation, and all I can hold onto is you, you, you...

My lighthouse in the darkness.

My tether in the storm.

My _Jim_.

_You're shivering, crying out, but staying put - it's not an easy position I put you in, leaning backwards, exposing yourself to me, but you keep it, despite your shuddering._

_That's enough._

_My brave knight has done his penance, has proven his devotion to me._

_I blow out the candle, put down the peas, and stand up again - this time I let myself be taken into your mouth._

There’s a pause and then I hear you blow out the flame, and something being placed on a table. Hope springs up in my heart, and I sag with relief as I sense the warmth of your body approaching before I even feel your cock against my lips.

I moan softly as you slide into my mouth.

The punishment is over - and as intense as it was, it was less an ordeal and more of an initiation. Into your world - where you make the rules, and I am ruled.

As I fellate you, I make a pleased sound in my throat. My cock twitches even as the throbbing continues.

 _Jim_ , I purr with rapture.

_You seem delighted with all that happened, for all that you were writhing and moaning when it was taking place._

_My wondrous Sebastian..._

_I let you bring me to climax, which doesn't take long. Every time we come together it seems we come closer... we are already so attuned; what will it be like when we've been together for a few weeks? Even a year?_

_I can't wait to get to know every inch of your body, know exactly what to do where to get the desired response... and the journey there is going to be so pleasurable..._

_I grasp your hair when I get close, push myself into you, and you accommodate, swallow, moan..._

_*My Sebastian...*_

God, I can’t help being an exhibitionist around you... I always enjoyed being admired, but with you there’s a performance element to it, like I’m in your own personal porno. I love being laid bare before you, helpless and horny -

I love when you do things to my body, unleashing pleasure and pain -

I love when you watch me as we fuck -

and now as I service you to the very best of my abilities - moaning low in my throat as I do... feeling euphoric as you come so hard, gasping and shivering...

Yes, Jim... _yes_...

I swallow you with pleasure and continue to lick you, trying to imagine your face... calling up the memory of you post-orgasm, panting, staring at me so soulfully with half-closed eyes...

_Fucking hell._

_You're sucking the life and soul out of me - if I had one... I lean on the table with one hand, trying to get my breath back._

_I pull out of you, look at you sitting there at my mercy, waiting for what I'll do next..._

_Whenever I have indulged in mutual pleasuring before, my interest in my partner was gone the moment I climaxed - I just wanted them out of there as soon as possible. I have none of that with you - I feel responsible, caring, wanting to make you feel safe and warm and loved._

_But it appears in your hierarchy of needs something else is topmost..._

_Little Seb is still standing proud, little drops of wax spread across your skin - well, they'll fall off soon enough as I handle you. I sit down, take you into my hand, start moving._

My breath catches in my throat as I feel your hand grasp my cock - I’m so stimulated from all the physical sensations and from the whole experience of ‘punishment’ and pleasuring you... when your hand moves, I inhale sharply and then my head falls back and my mouth drops open as the stimulation ramps up, and it’s so _sensitive_ and holy fuck I’ve never experienced anything like this before, and oh god, are those sounds coming from _me_ , oh bloody hell keep it together Seb, oh fuckfuck _fuck_ , this is so intense and so hot, _ohhhh_...

my body jerks like it’s been poked by a cattle prod...

I begin to shiver uncontrollably... moaning loudly...

God... _JIM_...

_Wow. You're certainly experiencing this. Your face looks contorted, lost in sensation; the sounds you make are unlike any I've heard you make before... I will learn *all* the sounds you can produce, Sebastian Moran; moans and groans and whimpers and whines... and those delicious gasps as you shudder and jerk..._

_I believe I catch my name in one of those gasps, or more, jimjimjim... even blindfolded and bound your focus is on me, always me._

_My beautiful Sebastian..._

_With an otherworldly groan you deliver yourself to me, your body spasming, your fingers grasping for support which they can't find, your legs trembling, and finally your body folding over, your forehead coming to rest on my shoulder, panting, straining for breath._

Leaning against you, I struggle to catch my breath.

"Holy... fuck..." I pant. "That was -"

I exhale shakily. "Amazing..."

I still can't see you, or put my arms around you... instead I press my face into your neck.

"Mmm..." I breathe. The thought of wanting to be with anyone else is laughable...

"No one touches me. Wouldn't want them to, anyway..." I sigh. " Lesson learned, Sir..."

_Oh yes, that's what this was about. My ownership. Of you..._

_I kiss you, hold you close. "My beautiful Sebastian... my sweet knight, my love..." I murmur, then undo your blindfold. I want to see your eyes._

I’m practically swooning at our closeness, your kiss, your scent, your beautiful words... The blindfold is pulled off, and I’m temporarily blinded by brightness - then my vision is filled by you.

“Hey,” I murmur. “It’s you...”

_"So it is," I smile. You look dreamy, lost in a world of your own - my world._

_I move behind you, undo the belt, rub your wrists, kiss your hands._

_I don't think you're up to getting up yet, so I grab our beers from the table, hand mine to you - I've hardly touched it; yours is nearly gone._

I tip the beer into my mouth. It feels strangely grounding... memories of today’s events come streaming back. God... what a mental day.

And tomorrow...

_tomorrow..._

“I’m looking forward to our day tomorrow...” I tell you. “It’ll be so amazing to finally have an evening together! I’ll just pop home in the morning for a change of clothes... and then we can meet up to go shopping...”

_"We'll have to check with Victoria and Stu..." I remind you, but I don't much care at the moment. I'm sure you'll be taking me to the theatre come hell or high water. And I can't wait..._

_"Our first *proper* date I guess - I'm not that well-versed in etiquette, but I'm pretty sure that whipping and fucking your lover in a house you broke into doesn't count."_

“More’s the pity,” I grin at you. “But I’ll still consider that our first _real_ date. Don’t worry about Victoria. I’ll give her a call and even if she had other plans, I’m sure she’ll back me up if needed. She seems to be having too much fun being involved in our scheme of deception to pull out now...”

_I get some more beers from downstairs, then help you onto the bed. I forgot to get aloe vera cream, but Mrs Fitzsimons has an array of ointments in the bathroom, so I get some soothing after-sun - if it's good after sun it's probably good after whipping as well. I lay you down and gently rub the cream into the palms of your hands, then your thighs, then carefully remove the last bits of wax from your cock and apply cream liberally to that. You're stretching out luxuriously, looking like a cat being petted._

I’m happy as a clam to be lying about drinking beer with you, but you insist on taking care of the inflamed areas of my body.

As you rub cream into these spots, my eyes close and I hum with pleasure. Especially as you pay attention to my cock.

“Mmnh... this is like some kind of pagan heaven,” I sigh with pleasure. “But every moment is with you...”

_"Pagan heaven? You think Christians don't bother with rubbing cocks?" I grin. "Must be boring then..."_

_When you're well and truly anointed, I snuggle into my spot on your shoulder._

_"Was that not too much?" I ask, uncertainly. I am not sure if asking is wrong, going to turn you off - but how else am I going to know for sure?_

My brow furrows. “Was what too much - You rubbing cream on my cock? Are you kidding?”

You look perplexed, struggling to answer and not coming up with anything.

“All of it?” I ask, and you nod.

“That was one of the best orgasms ever...” I say, awed. “Why would you think it was too much?”

_Wow. Really?_

_Wow._

_What heaven did you come from, Sebastian Moran...?_

_"Well, I don't know unless I ask, do I? When I'm hurting you - I can see it hurts. And I know you enjoy it - but I don't want to hurt you *too much*, where you don't enjoy it."_

"Oh..." I consider this. "Makes sense. I just thought you could tell, or I would tell you..."

I take your hand. "I've liked everything you've done. I was fortunate as hell to cross paths with such a creative little deviant..." I lean in and kiss your lips.

"And you may have guessed by my responses - I'm a tough fucker, I don't scare easily, and... I really, really like the kinky shit..." I wink at you.

_"Well, I can see your cock is loving it," I grin. "And I assumed you would say, but - well. It's not like I've ever done this before. And the signals can be mixed - I can see it's hurting you, and I can see it's exciting you - but what if it's more hurting than exciting? I just - want to be sure I get it right. I want it to be as great for you as it is for me..."_

Aww... it's _so sweet_ of you to worry about my enjoyment this much.

And I thought it was obvious... but I suppose it could potentially go off the rails even as I was enjoying myself...

"I guess if I'm in deep..." I say slowly. "It could be easy to go too far, and it might be hard to say so. But... there hasn't been a time that I felt like I was in any real danger. Except for the first time you tied me up and I didn't know you, and I do remember thinking to myself that death might be the outcome... but... you were worth the risk..." I say softly, touching your face. "I'm glad I took it..."

_"On the roof?" I ask. "You could have easily got out of that..."_

_... but then I realize that you wouldn't have._

_... and that you are more fucked up than you seem at first glance. I lift my head, look down at your face._

_"You don't give a fuck about danger, do you..."_

"No, I meant when you brought me here..." I look at you steadily. "And no, I don't..."

_"Well, at least you're smart enough to *recognize* danger..." I frown. "But - you're not to seek out danger that isn't me. I forbid it." I smile, but I mean it - you're going to be away from me for a month –_

Aww... is it strange that I enjoy you laying down the law?

Not only are you the only person on god's green earth who I'm fine with telling me what to do, I actually _like_ it...

"Now that I have you, I wouldn't put myself in danger's way willingly... but the forbidding has been noted..." I grin.

_I ponder the strange power of this love business... making me happy to give up the smack - fuck, making me *happy*, full stop. Making you want to stay safe, so you can stay with me..._

_"We're both so fucked up... and so lucky that we found each other," I muse, stroking your chin._

I laugh. "Definitely fucked up..." I say wryly. "But... if it led me to you, I don't care..."

_"It did, I guess," I smirk. "Who else would help out the little thief who tried to steal his wallet? Follow him to a garage roof, let him scratch you open - and *then* come back for more the next day?"_

I point to myself, grinning. "Your knight... that's who. You were the most mesmerizing guy I'd ever seen. Thank Christ you went to the club that night... did you consider not showing up?"

_I think back. "Not really... I kind of knew some of the guys would want to go out on a Saturday night, so I figured I'd join them - and then well, the place they went to was boring - just full of stoners. But - I have to tell you a secret..." I grin._

_Your eyes light up - "What?"_

_"It's embarrassing," I giggle. You lift your head, your beautiful enormous grin lighting up your face. "What?!"_

_"I *hate* the music they play in the Bunker - most of it's *awful*. Just noise. But - somehow when you walked in it sounded so much better. And dancing with you was - just amazing." I think I'm going red - what the fuck... "But I'd love to go dancing with you somewhere with *decent* music."_

I seize my chest and cry out, feigning being shot.

“What?!” I lament. “ _Noise??_ What do _you_ think is decent music?”

_"*Pleasant* music! With a tune, and a rhythm, and no one screaming or abusing guitars! Madonna, Kim Wilde, Pet Shop Boys, Donna Summer... or classical, though they don't let you dance to that anywhere."_

“Screaming and abusing guitars?” I echo, wide-eyed. “Madonna and Donna Summer?!” I feign death throes, and my head falls to the side as I grunt theatrically. Then I turn my head back and my eyes fly open. “Alright,” I say amiably. “Shall we?”

_"Shall we what?" I look at you puzzled._

“Go dancing somewhere with ‘decent music’,” I sigh melodramatically, then grin.

_“Oh, would you??” I look at you eagerly._

_“If you like - there’s a gay club that does great music, and we could dance together without worrying about annoying knackers interfering... though I have to admit I do enjoy a good punch-up by your side.”_

I smile at you fondly. “I would love to escort you to the club of your choice, punch-up or not... I’ve been to a couple of gay clubs. Can’t say I liked the music that much...” I don’t mention that I wasn’t in the gay club long enough for the music to annoy me. Everything of interest to me took place in the alleyway outside. But all that’s behind me now...

“I have a feeling I won’t be paying much attention to the music with you on my arm...” I stroke the skin of your arm, watching bumps rise to the surface. “Just enough to not step on your feet...”

_"I really love dancing, though," I say longingly. "Especially with you... especially to good music... *especially* when we can just clearly get lost in each other's moves without boors taking offence to what doesn't concern them."_

I feel myself grow dreamy as you talk... Looking at you softly, I kiss you.

"Then that's what we'll do. I want that too... to dance with you how I want and kiss you when I want... Maybe the music is better here than in London anyway."

_"I doubt it will be to your liking... a lot of Gloria Gaynor and Diana Ross. But it's great it's there, and great that they let me in - some of the other ones said to come back when I was older. Great, very supportive of your teenagers struggling with their sexuality," I frown. "Not that I struggle..." I add with a grin._

"Gloria Gaynor and Diana Ross... The things I do for love..." I roll my eyes and tickle you for a second, making you protest mightily and swat me.

"Ouch," I say good-naturedly. "Well like I said, I don't think I'll be paying much attention to the music... I'll be utterly focused on my beautiful boyfriend, and not struggling with my sexuality in the slightest." I grin back at you.

_*beautiful boyfriend*..._

_The most beautiful boy ever to walk the streets of Dublin calls me his *beautiful boyfriend*..._

_I must have a grin from arse to armpit. It hurts my cheeks, but I can't help beaming._

_"I love you, Sebastian..."_

Awww... my heart feels like it’s going to explode every time you smile like that. It is now my life’s mission to bring out that smile as often as possible...

“I love you too, Jim...” I sigh and stroke your cheek.

_"Do people ever die from being in love? It's so intense it *hurts*... hurts my insides," I gesture at my body, "all of them... can't think clearly, have lumps in my throat, my heart feels it's the size of a basketball, my stomach is upside down, and then I haven't even started on the lower regions. It appears to throw the entire organic network into chaos... surely that can't be healthy? You reckon it's a design flaw?"_

"God, I have no idea... maybe the more unsettled you feel, the more recklessly you behave... and that's good for nature? Lots of illicit sex, unplanned pregnancies... and seriously intense bonding over a cocktail of crazy love chemicals?" I say, considering. "And yeah, I know exactly what you mean... all it takes is a smile from you to make me feel like my heart is going to explode. And when I'm away from you..." I sigh and stare at the ceiling. "It's not good when I'm away from you..."

_"No," I agree wholeheartedly. "I hate being away from you. Time moves *so slowly*... I can't imagine how I got through time before you were there - it's like I was half asleep or something. Like I was in Plato's cave..."_

I smile at the ceiling. “Just like Plato’s cave, my little genius... we’ve stumbled blindly into the light and we’re free... and there’s no going back to our previous lives now... the only shackles I want are the ones you put on me...” I nudge you with my shoulder.

_“Can I shackle you to me for ever? So you’re never further away than a yard of chain?” I snuggle closer to you. You’re so warm and comfortable..._

I look at my wrists, perplexed. “I’m not sure why I’m not in chains right now...”

_"The Fitzsimonses don't have shackles. I checked. Woefully underequipped, this BnB. I'm tempted to ask for my money back... but then the bed is so comfy..."_

“And we have to cook our own breakfast... and be mindful of leaving fingerprints, like common thieves!” I look at you, my expression indignant. “I have half a mind to leave a complaint... They’re lucky we keep returning...”

_"That would be something..." I laugh. "'Yes, our house was broken into! No, nothing stolen... they drank some of our whiskey, bashed a dent in the wall, washed all our bedding, and left a note complaining about the lack of facilities and poor service...'"_

I chuckle. “How else will they learn?”

You get a good laugh out of that, and my heart glows. Every smile, every giggle makes me feel like I’ve stumbled upon treasure...

_"When we come back next year there will be shackles chained to the bed, and room service on call..." I smile._

_*Next year.* Next year we'll have our own apartment... living together, hopefully with Georgie... Walking through Dublin's summer rain with our own groceries, so you can cook me breakfast, because you still love cooking me breakfast at the weekends... and I need to go running three times a week to avoid getting fat from all the great food..._

_I realize I'm looking at you with a great big grin on my face._

_I stroke your golden hair. "Are you tired? I had a bit of a nap while you were at the theatre..."_

I shrug. “Not overly tired. But I can sleep at the drop of a hat. So whenever you’re ready, I’ll join you in repose...” I revel in our close contact as you snuggle against me, your leg sliding over mine.

_"I'll need to..." I gesture towards my jacket._

_You nod. Damn it. I'm looking at your face, trying to find disapproval._

_I *know* you don't like it. Hell, *I* don't like it. And I will quit, when you're away. Clean as a whistle when you're back. For now - I just don't want to get sick when I'm with you._

_I cook up, shoot up, ride out the rush, switch off the lights, join you in the soft warm darkness of the bed._

_Heaven..._

I struggle to keep my face neutral as you cook up, but fuck, it’s hard...

I don’t like the thought of you being without me for a month, doing this... and what will withdrawal be like for you??

Well, there’s nothing I can do about it in this moment... So all I can do is hold you as you fall asleep.

And once I’m sure you’re sleeping, then and only then do I close my eyes and allow myself to drift.


	17. Somebody

_I wake to the sounds of birds in the garden._

_They have a better class of birds here. Where I live, it's just pigeons you hear above the neighbours shouting and kids wailing. Here, it's blackbirds, song thrushes, wrens, great tits, robins, all trying to outdo each other._

_I lie waiting for the rock to drop._

_When I wake, there is always a small moment of not knowing where I am or what is happening, a tiny fragment of a second in limbo, and then the rock drops - the black heavy cold rock of pain that fills me._

_It's not coming._

_You keep it at bay._

_I crawl closer to you, like it's your physical presence that keeps the rock from dropping._

_My nose in your neck, I fall asleep again._

In the morning, I find you pressed against me, your face in my neck. I sigh contentedly - will I really get to wake up this way every morning??

Should I get up to start breakfast?

Nooo... I need some more Jim time first...

Carefully I adjust my arms and breathe in the scent of your hair.

So beautiful...

_Mmmm... warm, soft, pleasant, smells of Sebastian..._

_I don't want to think about a month of not waking up like this._

_Could I convince you to stay? I could, probably... but you would resent it. It's not the right way to start. We will have our entire lives together... just one month... 31 days..._

_For now, enjoy what you have, Jimmy._

_I open my eyes, see your bright eyes looking at me, that beautiful smile breaking through. I pull myself closer to you._

_"Hmmm... morning, Tiger..." I purr._

“Morning” (Kitten) “Jim...” I breathe into your hair. “I can’t wait to to do this every day, for the rest of my life...”

You sigh with pleasure.

“I’m sorry I’ll be away for so long...” I say mournfully. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

_"Nooooooo," I whine. "Time will go *so slowly* and I'll be dragging myself through every *minute* with difficulty, only to face *yet another* minute without you. But we'll be better after it... and you won't be worrying about your mam, and we won't be arrested by the guards - if we're discreet. Did you know homosexuality is illegal in this backwards country? Mind you, you're not allowed to be gay in England either until you're 21... bloody Christians."_

“So every time we fuck, we’ll be breaking the laws of god and men? I’m very alright with that...” I purr, nipping your neck. “Well, until we move one day...”

Secretly I feel relieved that you’re alright with me returning a month from now. So much more complicated otherwise... we’ll definitely need to stay one step ahead of the guards.

_"Well, when we move to England, we won't be legal till end of 1995... but then who the fuck cares about the law. Any law that opposes what we have is sick and unnatural."_

_I can feel you are quite ready to break the laws of god and men as we speak... hmmm... what could I possibly do with that magnificent morning wood?_

Every time you say ‘we’, my heart thrills...

“What we have is - fucking gorgeous...” I murmur, pressing kisses along your neck and over your jaw. My leg slides over yours.

_You’re so sweet and loving... and it’s a lazy morning. I’m fine with letting you take the initiative for now..._

Mmm? I feel your body melting into mine... your skin feels silky soft... your breath quickens.

My lips cover yours. I clasp your hand in mine and press it gently against the sheets.

_Big beautiful boy covering me with his warm strong body... mmm..._

_I melt into the embrace, luxuriating like a cat in the sun._

I feel us both getting excited... god, I have to get my fill of you before I leave - and have to go without you for _a month_...

I break off from the kiss. “Fuck... you feel amazing...” I groan, gazing at you. Then I dip my head down to kiss your neck and taste your skin...

I drop burning kisses down over your chest, circling my tongue luxuriously over your nipples... then I move further down, kissing your ribs, tasting your abdomen, licking the skin over your hip bones and pelvis... I take your twitching cock in my hand.

“What have we here?” I murmur, pressing kisses along the shaft, and letting my tongue dart out over the head. “Look what I’ve done...” I say sorrowfully as your cock gets even harder.

_"You licked it, now it's yours..." I purr, pulling the blanket slightly back over my chest and arms - it's not warm. You're going to make me hotter any moment though..._

“I’ll hold you to that,” I purr back.

Then I give you a heated look and slide my lips over your cock. The moan that escapes you is _so hot_...

My fingers grip your hips and I hum with pleasure.

_Like I will *ever* want anyone else *near* my cock... like anyone could ever hold a candle to you..._

_... and that's it for brain and words. The rest of my blood rushes down and all I am is feeling and sensation and lust and oh *fuck*..._

I’m getting so into it, _loving_ the idea of doing this to you in the mornings...

Your moans and gasps are increasing as my mouth slides up and down, up and down... faster and faster...

_You're giving it your all, and *fuck* you're brilliant at this... soon you have me gasping and moaning and writhing - oh fuck -_

_*Sebastian*..._

I give a low growl of approval as your fingers weave through my hair and tighten.

Any moment now -

My tongue swirls around your head and I suck harder -

Your breath hitches -

Tremors begin -

You moan loudly -

 _Yes, Jim... YES_ , I think, humming as your body jerks and begins to spasm...

_*Fuuucccckkkk...*_

_I should let you take the lead more often... You go for my cock like it's a magnet; like there's nothing in the world that gives you greater pleasure than pleasing me... and the best thing, the best thing of *all* is that there probably isn't._

_You suck the life out of me, and then some, until I'm shivering underneath you, indeed quite like a helpless kitten._

_When you finally release me, I'm just a puddle of Jim, helpless on the bed, my eyes large, my breath shallow, unable to say anything but 'wow'..._

_You grin like the Cheshire Cat... well-deserved, Sebastian..._

Feeling glowy, I watch you try to catch your breath, wide-eyed and in awe. _I_ did that, I think to myself, pleased as punch.

I curl around you and kiss your neck. “Good?” I murmur.

_"Ghnghr," I admit._

_"Fucking hell, Sebastian... just... wow."_

_I am *not* going to ask where you learnt that. That was just to prepare you for the real thing... me._

_"I will reciprocate... once I have stopped being a puddle..."_

Aww... you’re _so sweet_. Smiling, I kiss you.

“You be a puddle for as long as you want. Shall I start breakfast?” I rest my cheek against your arm and reach up to stroke your hair.

_"Noooo, don't go away... I want something *special* for breakfast... rich in proteins..." I grin, lifting my hand to touch you, turning on my side, so I can look into your lovely eyes, shining despite the twilight in the room, then make my way down._

Fuck, you’re so cute... sweet... beautiful... bewitching...

ohhhh god, I know where you’re going, and it’s so good...

so good...

My cock twitches as your tongue does magic, wicked things... I hear myself give a low, rough groan...

“Mmmh... Jim...” I breathe, shivering intensely.

_Yes my darling Tiger, I'm going to make *sure* you don't think of anyone else ever again... I'm going to drive you absolutely mental..._

_I pay close attention to your responses to every move I make, working out what you like, what you love, what makes you shiver..._

I’ve never had a blow job like this, ever _ever_...

and there is nothing subservient about the way you do this... I’m at your mercy, completely...

My moaning grows louder...

The shivering intensifies...

“Jim...oh – fuck -” I gasp, my breath hitching –

_Yes my Sebastian... come for me, let me suck your essence from you, mine for ever and always..._

_Your groans grow frantic, your hands clawing the sheets, your hips thrusting, and there it is, your delight, your pleasure, your love... all for me..._

I feel like I'm suspended in one moment of pleasure so intense it's nearly torment -

oh - god - before exploding into ecstasy... my body spasms violently, and I _thrash_ and _moannn_ as everything goes blank...

 _JimJimJIM_...

_I take it all in, rightfully mine, like I can keep you inside if I consume you, your blood, your sweat, your tears, your semen; like a communion, through this I’ll be forgiven..._

Gasping, my head falls back against the pillow. My lips part and I try to form words, but all that escapes is a moan of pleasure.

_You seem as puddled as I was earlier. I look at your face, blissed out, eyes wide and amazed, staring at me with a half-open mouth, attempting to smile through gasping for air._

_I will save this image for ever. My golden boy, my beloved, my knight..._

_I let myself drop down next to you, my nose against your shoulder, my hand on your chest, feeling your heart race._

We lie entangled for what feels like a sleepy eternity, gazing at each other occasionally with heavy-lidded eyes, kissing each other’s lips.

Finally I raise myself up onto my elbow with a groan. “I guess we should think about getting going before we wake up tomorrow morning and we’ve missed the play. Breakfast, my King?”

_"Hmmmm..." I purr. "Yes, after all that exertion, breakfast might be a good idea..."_

_You head downstairs to cook, while I quickly shoot up. Just a bit._

_When you come upstairs with breakfast, I've cleared the little table, and we enjoy the food, you again eating most of mine. No wonder you're so lovely and warm - your metabolism must be burning like wildfire._

_After breakfast we sit for a bit, drinking coffee, both reading a book - I like that we can just be together without feeling the need to fill the space with chatter. You take the remains downstairs, then we have a shower and get dressed._

_"Right - shopping?" you ask. You look so excited that I get over my reluctance. If the lad wants to buy you clothes, let him buy you clothes..._

And finally we're out and on our way. I'm actually looking forward to this which is a first when it comes to shopping. If I could wear a t-shirt, torn jeans, and boots for the rest of my life, I'd be thrilled. But _you_ \- I know dressing up tonight will be significant for you... And it would mean the world to be able to do this for you.

"You'll have to choose the shops," I tell you as we stroll out into daylight. "And don't choose anything too affordable, please. We're spending my father's ill-gotten gains, after all."

You look at me in surprise. Oops. Didn't mean to let that slip. Ah well. You might as well know.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, Daddy dearest is into some questionable prospects... his money has been dirty for a good long time, I'm sure... so why not put it to good use?”

_Oh? Huh. Not just a posh abusive twat but a *crooked* posh abusive twat..._

_Well. It's practically a civic duty to relieve him of some money? Spend it on clothing a poor half-orphan?_

_"Are you sure it won't get you into any trouble?" I try one last time._

"When it comes to spending money on keeping up appearances, he doesn't concern himself too much. He'll see the credit card charge to a clothing shop, and assume I needed some new clothes to dazzle Victoria with. If anything, the posher the shop name is, the better. Any shops around here with names like 'Posh Ensembles for Arrogant Wankers'?" I say, fighting to keep from grinning like an idiot.

_"I know just the thing," I say, and walk you to a suit shop which has a teenagers' section. It's off the peg, but it's posh enough. I don't think I'd have got over the threshold if I had been on my own, but you are in last night's suit again and these people can smell money, so I'm faced with nothing more confrontational than a raised eyebrow._

_"We're looking for a suit for my friend," you confidently tell the shop assistant. Friend? I'd have gone with cousin, that would have been safer... though I'm getting strong gay vibes from the guy, so we're probably alright._

_"Certainly, sirs," he smiles, assessing your suit and evidently approving of it. "A summer fit?"_

_Oh gods –_

_This is actually happening –_

_I hadn't even *dared* think I would *actually* get a suit. I've never had a suit - I wouldn't dare *dream* of a suit -_

_I'm looking at you like a deer in headlights._

God, the awed look on your face... I’m never going to forget this. I can’t wait to see what you choose...

“That sounds good...” It makes no sense to put you in a warm suit in summer. But Ireland being so damp, do you need a second one? Will you even consider something so extravagant as _two_ suits? “But perhaps one for colder weather as well? Just to see...”

If you love it, hopefully you won’t turn it down...

_What on earth are you doing?? You're not thinking of buying me two suits - you're mad - even your dad will have something to say about *that* -_

_"I'm usually quite chilly - I think I'd like a colder-weather suit more - and it's hardly summery..." I object._

_The salesman nods, leads us to the first floor of the shop, where the boys' suits are. "We have some lovely Worsted wool weaves that are suitable for most seasons," he gestures, getting out a navy jacket. "This one for example has a full lining, which means it will sit just that bit better and retain warmth when it's chilly, but it's a relatively light weave so it's not going to make you sweat on a summer day like today. The lining is silk, making it all natural and extremely breathable; so if it gets too warm and you take off your jacket you won't have smelly armpits."_

_Wool._

_Silk._

_You look at it with a connoisseur's eye, handle the fabric, hold it up. "What do you think?"_

_It's gorgeous... a slight shine to the wool, subtle shoulder pads instead of the over-the-top ones that many suits have, elegantly draped..._

_"It's beautiful..." I say, touching the sleeve._

_"Were you thinking of navy?" the assistant asks._

_I'm actually picking a suit? An actual suit? To wear to the theatre with my boyfriend??_

_I've never ever had a suit. It will probably be a long time before we can buy a good suit again. If I don't grow too quickly I'll be able to wear it for a while..._

_I know it's summer, but I've always wanted a black suit. Black suit and tie, to go with my hair..._

_"Do you have something like this in black?"_

_"We do," the man nods, diving back between the suits and bringing out a gorgeous dark jacket, deep black with a subtle sheen. I think my eyes light up._

God, if I thought you looked awestruck at the mere prospect of buying a suit... when the black suit is held up for your approval, you look - I think I could describe it for a thousand years and never fully capture it.

There’s a sudden rush of euphoria, yes - but with an edge of near-horror - can you really allow yourself to even desire something wonderful?

yes my Jim... if I have anything to say about it, you can...

“Beautiful,” I murmur. Suddenly I can’t wait to see it on you...

“Try it on,” I urge, with an ever-widening smile.

_"Do you know your sizes?" the salesman asks._

_I shake my head, embarrassed._

_"No, it changes all the time at your age, doesn't it?" he smiles. I nod at him gratefully._

_"Shall I take your measurements?" He takes out a tape measure, approaches me, measures me up, ducks into the rows of clothes, and emerges with a black jacket and trousers. "I think these should fit," he holds them out. "The trousers will be slightly long, but as a teenager you just shoot up from one week to the next, so what we will do is put in a double hem so they fit perfectly now, and then when you get taller your mum can easily remove it and you can enjoy your suit for longer - it's such a shame if you buy a lovely suit and grow out of it in a month, isn't it?" he chatters as he guides me to a fitting room._

_I try the suit on - it fits beautifully. Slightly roomy; I'll have to wear braces, but that means it will allow me to gain some weight as well as get a bit taller. I suspect the salesman understands I'm not a regular suit buyer - god knows what he thinks, but bless him and his foresight. I look in the mirror -_

_\- oh._

_I am still wearing my t-shirt, which looks incongruous under the black jacket, but -_

_the boy-man who looks back at me is someone I've never seen before. He looks confident, poised, mature. Someone to take notice of._

_Wide-eyed, I rub at my hair, trying to make it look a bit more civilized, turn to the side - it really looks - amazing. I nearly get tears in my eyes, but that would look silly - I rub at them, then stare again at my reflection._

_"Jim?" you ask. "How is it?"_

_In a daze, I walk out._

I pace as I wait... am I nervous? Why would I feel nervous?

I try to look at suits for myself, but I can’t be arsed even when I need a suit... so instead I look at ties and try to guess which ones you’d like.

It’s awfully quiet in there... I call out to you to see how you’re doing.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I look up.

 _Oh_...

You just aged by five years... and then ten... now I’m imagining you at thirty, forty...

I shake my head, suddenly feeling unbelievably moved for a mere suit fitting. I move towards you, feeling strangely shaken up.

_Steady, Moran..._

“It ‘suits’ you,” I quip, to deflect the feeling of my heart expanding to nearly bursting...

As I walk up to you, I add in a hushed voice, “Really... you look stunning, Jim...”

_Your eyes grow large as you see me._

_When you walk up to me, the shop and the assistant fade into the background; all there is is you and me, your eyes on me._

_You shake your head, like you can't believe what you see, and then you ease the tension with a little joke. I manage to turn up the corner of my lip appropriately. The salesman gives a polite chuckle like he hasn't heard (and probably made) this joke a thousand times before._

_There's no way he's going to believe I'm your 'friend' now. The atmosphere between us is alight. But it's not sexual - it's awe, and admiration, and love..._

_"What do you think?" you ask. I need to clear my throat before I'm able to speak._

_"I love it," I manage, unable to stop looking at myself in the large mirror wall on the side of the shop. We look - stunning together - like we belong together..._

_The assistant comes and pulls a bit here and adjusts a bit there, and manages to make me look even *better*. He looks genuinely pleased at how delighted we are._

_"We'll want some shirts to go with it, and undershirts, and ties," you tell him._

_Oh god yes - all that as well -_

_"Of course," he replies, gestures to the rows of shirts. "What colours were you thinking? Classic white, business blue, or a more daring colour - purple is very popular this summer..."_

_"White," I decide. "And a black tie."_

_You can't beat a classic look._

“Choose a couple more shirts and ties?” I suggest, looking at the beautiful array of fabrics. “It’ll feel like a new suit when you mix it up...”

I beam as you pore over shirt and tie combinations with an exacting eye, tossing aside rejected selections. Jesus... you’re a natural.

Just you wait, world... Jim’s coming for you, I think with satisfaction.

_Oh no I couldn't..._

_But then you were thinking of buying two suits - and you will have *tons* of suits, so I'll have to have something to wear when I walk next to you..._

_I look through the colours, combine ties and shirts, finally settle on a burgundy and a lilac shirt, and a dark red and an aubergine tie._

_With a pair of braces and three undershirts, I don't want to see Lord Moran's credit card bill, but you act like it's no big deal. "We'll pay now, and come back later to pick everything up; that will give you a chance to put in the double hem," you tell the salesman. "We'll need to buy some shoes, and I don't want to be dragging a garment bag around town."_

_Shoes!_

_I look at my feet - of course, I can't wear my trainers under that suit... but shoes - god, Sebastian..._

You’re looking worried again - shit. Just when you seemed to be in the full swing of the shopping experience.

“This amount isn’t out of the ordinary, so you don’t have to worry... And anyway, it’s not even my money,” I remind you. “My father is an abusive homophobic asshole, remember? And here I am spending his dirty money on my boyfriend who I’m going to run away with.” I snigger. You smile, but your forehead is still creased with concern.

“Do you have any idea how furious he would be if he could see us out on the town, looking gorgeous and in love? It’s his nightmare, believe me... one day when it’s safe to, I’ll send him a picture of us. A nice portrait,” I say with a smirk. “Tell him it’s to hang in the great hall with the rest of the bloody Morans. He’ll have a meltdown that will last the rest of his sorry life. With any luck, it will kill him...” I say cheerfully. “So. Shoes?”

_... Alright then... I don't mind emptying the pockets of Lord Moran. As long as it doesn't get you in trouble._

_We go to a posh shoe shop, where I choose a gorgeous pair of black leather Oxford brogues and some black socks, then we head back to the clothes shop, where the assistant has me try on the trousers to check the double hem - perfect._

_I can't wait to put on the full ensemble. It occurs to me that I'll have to hide it somewhere, or someone will nick it and sell it - or maybe not, as I'd be able to tell who did it and would fucking kill them._

_Not for long. Just a month._

As we wait for your clothing to be packed into a garment bag, I watch you surreptitiously. Still moments of concern - but your way of life has been in crisis mode for so long now... I shouldn’t expect you to suddenly be carefree and happy just because it would make _me_ worry less. That’s not fair in the slightest...

I’ll just have to ease you into feeling safe over time. God, I wish I didn’t have to wait a month...

Anyway, we obviously don’t want the police involved... so it really is the safest plan of action.

“All set?” I ask you, as the salesman hands you the garment bag. Once again a look of awe crosses your face as you grasp it.

_I can't believe I'm carrying a suit in a garment bag, and new shoes and shirts and ties - oh god._

_Bought for me by my boyfriend - but I'm not his toy boy. I'll make it up to him when we live together._

_We head back to the Fitzsimonses', where I get out the white shirt, put it on with the undershirt, tie the tie, put on the suit, the socks, the shoes, look into the mirror on the wardrobe -_

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

_I look - amazing. Suave. Self-assured. I look at my eyes, dark in the lamplight of the bedroom, my hair slicked back, suit, tie, eyes, and hair shining darkly, ominously -_

_I look like a man not to be crossed._

_Fucking hell._

_I catch your eyes in the mirror._

“Shit,” I mutter as I look you up and down. You look different - how you hold yourself, the look on your face... If I passed by you on the street looking like this, I would see you as a force to be reckoned with. And I would _never_ guess you were fourteen... not in a million years. Not with your eyes _gleaming_ like that...

“Good Lord... what have I done?” I say, a feral smile spreading across my face.

_"You have unleashed a force such as the world has never had to reckon with..." I grin. God, I look *amazing*. I can't stop looking at myself. And neither can you, so I'm not just being a peacock._

_"Thank you, Sebastian," I say, heartfelt. "No one's ever - I mean - I can't imagine -"_

_My throat closes up. Damn it, Jimmy._

_I step towards you, pull you close, bury my head in your shoulder for a moment. Then I turn round, look at the reflection of the both of us - me looking dark and menacing, you looking golden and strong._

_"The world doesn't stand a chance..." I smirk._

You seem so moved as you hold me close, it pulls my heartstrings. Oh, Jim... do you not know how much more I would do for you??

I open my mouth to say as much but then - you’re gazing at us in the mirror’s reflection, and I look to see what you see. And it takes my breath away.

In an instant I see what you and I are - and what we’re going to become.

“Almost makes you feel sorry for the world,” I say, smirking back.

“Oh, wait... no it doesn’t,” I say fiercely. “You and me, Jim - to the bloody end.”

_"Bloody it may well be..." I say. "May it also be far, far into the future. I have a thing or two I still want to do... mostly with you," I grin, grabbing your tie and pulling you close for a kiss. I can't help looking sideways at the mirror - fuck, we look like we were made for each other in these clothes._

_"What do you think - ready to take me home to meet the family?" I let go of you and twirl. "I look like a proper posh twit, don't I?"_

_I mimic your accent - your real accent, not the working-class one you affect. "So delighted to meet you, Lord and Lady Moran. May I compliment you on the quite *excellent* chap you've raised - I must say, quite frankly, I never met a better cocksucker..."_

I laugh loudly. “Aww... Sweet of you to say so! They’d be _so_ proud to hear it...”

Ugh... that bloody accent. Must do a better job deprogramming myself...

“And don’t kid yourself. You look _nothing_ like a posh twit. You look more like...” I pause to think, scanning you again. “I don’t know... you defy categories.” My brow furrows. “You look like trouble - like no one’s ever seen,” I say with satisfaction.

_"Aw, that's just because you know me," I smile - but yeah, you're right. That smile - I look like a serpent about to strike._

_"Should we check in with the love birds? Or your parents? Don't they expect you home for at least some of the day? Or should you call them?"_

“Yeah, I should make an appearance, I suppose...” I grumble. “I need to change for tonight anyway. And Victoria will probably have left a stack of messages by the time I get there. But we could drop by your place first, in case she’s still there?”

The bliss of being with you and the electric charge of us looking so amazing together is already fading... reality has encroached upon our fragile little world. I can’t wait until ‘our world’ is the only one that matters...

I sigh heavily. “This is shit. I really don’t want to leave you, even for a few hours,” I say with a scowl.

_“I know... well if Victoria is still at ours, you could phone home and say you’re out together?”_

_I pray she is... I don’t want to be without you either._

_How am I ever going to survive a month? A month!!_

“I should probably still pop by for a short bit,” I say, resigned. “Spending nights away and hardly seeing them is one thing, but not showing up at all... Might be a bit much for them. This is supposed to be a ‘family holiday’ after all. What a joke,” I grumble. “You’d think once they married me off in their minds, that would be enough. But I guess they’ve considered me a chaotic mess long enough that they still think they should keep an eye on me. They’re doing a bang-up job... considering this entire idiocy is what brought us together,” I purr, pulling you into a kiss.

_Oh._

_Of course._

_We head to my place, where neither Victoria nor Stu are in. Bennie says they left together, but he doesn't know where they went. It's a testament to the success of the transformation that he does a double take when he sees me - usually nothing is able to draw his gaze away from the telly. "You heading to a funeral?" he asks. I roll my eyes. "The theatre, in fact..."_

_He chuckles. "Same difference..."_

_I roll my eyes harder. I can't wait to get away from here..._

_I walk you to the bus stop. "Where and when shall we meet?"_

Now that you’re all dressed up, this dive is even more wrong for you than it was before... god, I wish I could take you by the hand and take you away right here and now.

Instead we walk to the bus stop, me feeling glum about leaving you behind.

“Six is good... we could meet up before the theatre for a drink?” I ask. “Is there somewhere nice that would feel like a date and you’d still get served? Or... do you want to go for dinner?”

_My eyes have lit up before I can go "No, I'm alright," and you decide - "I'm taking you to dinner, Jim. Where would you like to go?"_

_I shrug - restaurants are hardly my speciality. I doubt you'll be thinking of the chippie on the corner._

_"Let's meet at the theatre - there are lots of restaurants that do nice pre-theatre menus. They're on special offer!" you cut off my protests before I can voice them._

_Well alright - I guess we should enjoy Lord Moran's credit card now we still can..._

I feel downright giddy at how much you’ve agreed to...

“Perfect... Let me treat you while I can, Jim! I won’t be able to abuse my father’s money for long,” I say with a wink.

“So... Six o’clock at the theatre. Dinner and a play.” I beam at you.

_"Can't wait," I smile. It's only three hours - barely any time, right?_

_I head back inside. It annoys me how dirty the place gets - I clean occasionally but the moment I turn my back it's filthy again. I can see Bennie's itching to ask about the new suit, but uncertain how to approach it - we don't really chat, as a rule. I don't generally chat with anyone._

_I pick up a book, but can't get into it._

_Sod this._

_I head back to the Fitzsimonses'. If I have to wait, I might as well wait in comfort._


	18. Remember a Day

When I arrive at the manor, I’m delighted to discover Father isn’t home. And that Mum is all aflutter about a social event with one of the ladies we met with this week. God - it seems like they were barely aware of me being gone.

Could it really be so easy? Meeting a girl and pretending we’re serious and arranging a week-long shag for said girl is all it takes to get them to leave me the fuck alone? I wish I’d known; I could have saved myself a lot of aggravation... anyway, it should make my month at home easier to deal with. I just have to keep Victoria involved - I’ll fucking pay her if I have to. Although it’s probably not money she’s interested in... but she’ll be easy enough to keep at bay when she’s in another fucking country.

And then her ears must have been buzzing, because suddenly the phone rings. Mum calls up to me that it’s Victoria on the line.

Oh god.. here we go...

“Hello, Victoria,” I say pleasantly.

“God, I need to buy you a nice thank you gift for all that glorious cock, Sebastian,” she purrs.

I hear a muffled gasp, and then the sound of hanging up.

“Was that your mam?” Victoria screams with laughter.

“Oh, well done. Jesus...” I mutter.

“Oh calm the feck down. She’ll just assume I think you’re magnificent in bed. I can only imagine what you’d do in bed, Sebastian Moran. I just have our romantic moment in the garden shed to go by,” she says with a theatrical sigh.

“Down, girl! I thought you were all about Stu’s magic cock these days,” I say, lighting a cigarette and opening the window.

“I’m hardly going to marry him, am I! God, fall in love like a fool and you think _everyone’s_ exclusive...”

“Speaking of which... my love and I have plans tonight...” I say expectantly, and take a drag off my cigarette.

“I assumed you did. The week’s almost over, isn’t it? And then the ball is tomorrow... So I guess your lady will have the night off,” she says airily.

“What?” I ask flabbergasted.

“You’re expected to go the ball with me, you eedjit,” she says patiently. “Our parents have already arranged a table together. They’re _delighted_ to be able to see us together after our whirlwind romance. So I expect you to dote on me like a _proper_ fool in love.”

_I visit a pharmacy underway, get the aloe vera cream I meant to get and some concealer. At the Fitzsimonses', I have a nice shower, put on deodorant, style my hair with Mr Fitzsimons's hair gel, tip some concealer on my spots, then shoot up._

_When I get dressed in my suit, remembering how the shop assistant pulled *here* and *here* to make it all sit a bit better -_

_I am shocked, again, as I look in the mirror._

_I look at least seventeen. I look sophisticated; a boy you'd expect to go to the theatre. I smile at myself - wow. A boy - no, a man - not to be crossed._

_With a spring in my step, I walk to the theatre._

All the way to the theatre, I’m cursing to myself. How could this happen? As soon as we made the arrangement with Victoria, I completely forgot about the stupid ball... I thought I’d be off the hook since my parents weren’t actively trying to match me up anymore. I didn’t stop to think that Victoria would _want to go with me..._ or that our parents would expect us to. Motherfucking Christ... I don’t want to waste a fucking evening with a bunch of stuffed shirts and socialites.

And - how are _you_ going to react to me being out for an evening with a date, even a fake one??

Fuck... how the hell do I get out of this??

I’ll just have to confess the whole thing to you tomorrow, and hope you’re not upset...

And - my previous joke to you about faking food poisoning. I could do that... Victoria will just have to understand...

Feeling slightly relieved, I look out the window as the taxi approaches the theatre.

I get out partway down the street, and walk the rest of the way. My heart is racing. Three long hours without you... no way I can go through an entire evening tomorrow.

I spot you.

In your black suit. Looking sleek and stunning. I almost wore black too, but I wanted you to stand out, so I went for charcoal grey with a white shirt and gunmetal tie.

I approach you purposefully, remembering the night I walked up to you in the club like a predatory cat.

I wish I could sweep you up into a kiss...

I can’t obviously - but I can run my arm along your back and lean in with a suggestive smile and whisper, “God, you look gorgeous in that suit... I can’t wait until you take it off, and fuck me until I pass out. Sir.”

_I can sense you coming up to me. It's like there's an electricity in the air; like a thunderstorm approaching, but a pleasant thunderstorm, one of those that clears the air after an oppressive day._

_Your whispered words make me flush hot - I must be bright red. Good thing there's some room in the trousers._

_I swallow, then attempt to speak - it takes me two tries._

_"Yes, well - better not say such things if you don't want me to drag you into the gents and scandalize the punters..." I growl. "Fun as that sounds, I don't want my first dinner and theatre date cut short by the guards."_

_I look at you - charcoal suit again, but a different one, slimmer cut, narrower lapels - gorgeous tie._

_"Have you got a permit for looking so mouth-wateringly attractive?" I ask. It's taking all my willpower not to touch you._

Your eyes practically glazed over when I spoke. Fuck it's hot to see the effect I have on you... I have to focus on not getting a bloody erection just hearing you reply in that low voice.

"No permit, Sir..." I say pleasantly. "I do hope the penalty is not too stiff..."

_"Quite stiff I'm afraid... but nowhere near as stiff as it is going to be," I reply, and then start walking, because if we keep standing here we are going to do something stupid._

_You ask where I want to eat, and I shrug. I don't really mind - anywhere around here looks nice._

_You gesture to a French bistro which does a three-course pre-theatre menu. It looks lovely, so we go in. “Table for two, please,” you say to the waiter, and we are led to the cutest small cast-iron table that could have been on any Parisian pavement in a romantic comedy. We pick up the menus._

_I'm a bit at a loss - I've never had any of these things. Chocolate mousse sounds nice for dessert, but as to the rest - endive? Goat's cheese? Figs?_

_Prawns in a garlic and white wine sauce - I've had a prawn cocktail once. That was really nice. I'll have that. And - steak? I've never had steak either, but it's supposed to be good - but will it look unsophisticated if I eat steak and chips? Would that be what a working man orders? Maybe I should go for fish - fish is civilized, right?_

_"The roast sea bass, please," I tell the waiter confidently._

_He takes the menus. "Certainly, Sir. And to drink?"_

_Will he allow me wine? Well, there's only one way to find out..._

_"A bottle of the Chablis, please," you order, and he simply nods, and takes away the red wine glasses._

I beam at you. “Like you’ve been doing it all your life...” I murmur.

I ordered the crab cakes to start, steak and chips (which you smiled at secretively), and crème brûlée. I don’t care about sweet things as a rule, but it seems like something you might like to taste.

The waiter comes by and asks if we prefer still or sparkling water, and I order sparkling for the table which seems to puzzle you. But when it arrives with slices of lime and I pour some into a glass for you, you take a tentative sip, and then another.

I am so going to enjoy you experiencing your first reasonably posh meal... although is it a bad idea to show you ‘how the other half lives’ when we won’t have a lot of money to start with?

Sod it. You only live once, and anyway... I suspect we won’t be struggling for too long. I won’t allow you to live in poverty anymore, and I sense your ambition is something to be reckoned with...

The waiter arrives with the wine, and gives it to me for my approval. Posh people and their bloody wine... I sigh and gulp it down. “Stellar, mate,” I say, grinning at you ferally.

“Very good, Sir,” the waiter says, and pours us both a glass before slipping away.

_I do *not* roll my eyes at the wine tasting ceremony - which is utterly pointless, but everyone insists on treating with such solemnity - and nearly spit out my water at your assessment. A man after my own heart - but I knew that already..._

_When he's left, I make a show of looking at the wine against the light, swirling it in the glass while keeping the glass on the table and scrutinizing it intensely, then quickly lifting it and sticking my nose in the glass, having a sip, moving it around my mouth, all with a deadly serious expression, making you giggle uncontrollably. "Where on earth did you learn to do that? It's like I'm watching my dad, or my uncle -" you snigger._

_"TV," I admit. "Mam liked to watch soaps..."_

_Bread and butter are brought, and we have some - it's deliciously fresh bread, still warm from the oven. I reckon I could eat my fill on just this..._

_We chat a bit, pleasantly, about everything and nothing - Oscar Wilde, naturalist art, Frances Beckett - and then the starters arrive. A plate is put in front of both of us. Yours has three patties with a dollop of sauce and some artfully carved vegetables. Mine contains a Hieronymus Bosch painting._

_Four miniature monsters sit on my plate. They have slivers of dill covering them, and too many tentacles, coming out of their face, their body, their tail. Their black eyes stare at me accusingly. Next to them lies a wedge of lemon._

_Of course I know that's what prawns look like. When they're in the *sea*. Not when they are on your plate, ready for you to eat. They look set to attack._

_You smile at me, say "Bon appétit," and cut a bit off one of the cakes on your plate. I look at the little monsters on mine in a panic. How am I supposed to eat these??_

_I pick up my knife and fork and try to find a weak point in one of them. It appears to be all covered in exoskeleton. I manoeuvre it on its back and prod its belly - its legs move as if to catch the knife._

Uh oh... I hope you won’t mind some instruction, but I can’t watch you struggle like this... and if I see a prawn go flying across the restaurant, it will be difficult not to laugh.

“Try this,” I murmur, reaching for a prawn. With a deft demonstration, I pull the meat from its unsightly shell. _Cr-rack_. Yank.

“Voila - tasty, tasty prawn,” I say, waving it at you by the tail. “Now you try...” I grin, letting it bounce onto your plate.

_*Typical.* Your mam brings you up all your childhood to eat with knife and fork, because that's how civilized people eat. And the very first time you're in a posh restaurant, you are told to use your hands._

_I'm starting to get a bit agitated. I didn't like your patronizing remarks - I know they weren't meant that way; but you're making me more and more aware that I don't belong here. Despite my fancy clothes. You can put a monkey in a nice suit - dangle a prawn in front of him like he's a dog you're training -_

_*Cut it out* Jimmy; he's trying to be nice. So what if he knows more about this world than you. You dazzled him when you were at the museum the other day. You both have your strengths._

_Yeah, like being able to read Kufic script is a useful skill._

_*Enough* Moriarty. You are not ruining your date by getting resentful. Look at him - he's so genuine, so anxious for you to enjoy yourself... he hasn't touched his crab beyond the first bite. He's not patronizing; he's trying to make sure you have a good time._

_This is probably the last time in a long while either of you will have this - and he's giving it up for *you*, Jim Moriarty. He fucking *adores* you. Now eat your fucking Lovecraftian hellspawn and smile._

_I hold the prawn by its tail and bite into the flesh - oh. That *is* nice._

_"Hmmm," I sound at you. You look so relieved - oh, my Sebbie - I'm sorry -_

_I dip it in the rich sauce and bite off another bit - hmmmm, melts on the tongue..._

_I close my eyes at you in a gesture of relish._

For a moment I’m afraid I’ve insulted you... you look resentful, restless...

what was I supposed to do, ignore you while you struggled?

But after a few quiet moments, you take a bite and seem to enjoy it.

Thank Christ... I drain my glass and pour some more wine.

“Want to try mine?” I offer and push my plate towards you.

_Don't mind if I do..._

_I cut a bit of one of your crab cakes and try it. *Also* delicious..._

_I take hold of the next prawn, try not to look it in the eyes, and crack its back like I saw you do. It easily gives up its tender insides. Ah, so that's how it works. I never saw *that* in mam's soaps._

_"Have a bite," I hold it out to you. "It's really delicious - and also *really* garlicky, so you may want to."_

I grasp your hand, hold it next to my mouth, and brush my lips against your skin as I take a bite of the proffered prawn.

I’m being a bit obvious, but... this isn’t the kind of place where people will notice and follow us when we leave. They’ll be horrified and judgmental and ignore us - or look horrified and judgmental. Either way, fuck them.

I stretch out my leg under the table and rub it against yours.

“Mmm... that _is_ delicious...” I say innocently.

_Sebbie..._

_But then this is a theatre area. People must be a bit used to artists and their ways._

_Still, it's making me flush, whether in self-consciousness or in lust I couldn't say._

_"You're playing dangerous games, Tiger..." I say in a low voice. "Don't make me get out the chains..."_

“You’re going to drag me to the theatre in chains?” I murmur, and take a sip of my wine, letting my tongue flick out over the lip of the glass.

“Oh, alright... I’ll behave...” I grin at you, and remove my leg from yours. “But you’re not making it easy. You look _ravishing_...”

_"My personal Tiger on a leash... what a good idea. Not sure if they'll allow pets into the theatre though... and I can't even claim you're well-behaved."_

_I attack the third prawn, just ever so lightly lick around the tip of the flesh before sticking it into my mouth. Two can play this game, Sebastian... however, if we play too hard, we might miss the play, and that would never do. I'm really looking forward to seeing an actual live play - a professional one, not Georgie and his classmates doing the Nativity. Though he was an incredibly cute shepherd._

Fuck, I’m having such a good time being out with you. I never cared for dates; I couldn’t see the point. If you’re going to hook up, then hook up. David was different- we were friends so we hung out all the time anyway. We certainly didn’t get dressed up to go out - we were far more likely to go to a park, get plastered, laugh our arses off, and then shag in the woods.

But with you it feels completely different... like - you’re venturing out into the world to get the lay of the land. Before I lay it at your feet. Which I fully intend to do. I have no idea how yet; but I know it will happen...

I smile at you as you watch with huge eyes as the main courses arrive, and I refill your wine glass.

When the waiter leaves us, I hold up my own. “To us, Jim... and our life together. May it be everything we want... and more.”

_What the..._

_What *is* it with posh people and having your food look back at you?_

_I didn't expect it to come battered, but - I thought at least it would be a *fillet*..._

_A full fish stares at me with a dead imploded eye as I clink my glass against yours. Your words are so heartfelt and so sweet -_

_I never thought in a million years I could have something like this, ever..._

_"To us," I say, past the lump in my throat, look you in the eyes as we both take a sip, smile at you - your eyes are so sweet - no wonder women fall for you all the time, who could resist a look like that…_

_I skin and debone my fish - it's hard work, eating in a posh restaurant._

_It tastes delicious though, as do the mash and vegetables that came with it._

I watch you eating with gusto, my heart glowing. You don’t eat everything, though - saving room for your chocolate mousse? I know you don’t have a huge appetite. I help myself to the leftovers on your plate with a wink.

“If people are watching this, they might get the wrong idea about us,” I say, waggling my eyebrows. You snigger into your wine glass.

By the time the third course arrives, I’m back to rubbing your leg under the table. You raise an eyebrow at me and I remove my leg from yours with a not-so-apologetic smile.

I crack my crème brûlée as you watch with curiosity.

“Try it,” I say, pushing my dish towards you. “We could mix it with the chocolate mousse like a pair of savages...”

_The chocolate mousse is very dark and strong and absolutely to die for. It comes with cream which is the perfect counterpart, and I nearly moan in pleasure._

_Judging by the previous dishes, it wouldn't have surprised me if it had come still in the bean, but I guess this is deconstructed milk chocolate mousse, in a way?_

_You offer me some of your crème brûlée - ohhh, delicious..._

_I dip my spoon in my mousse and lick it, my head tilted back decadently, then offer it to you._

_Any moment now we're going to be asked to leave... I just hope it's not before we've finished dessert._

I put down my spoon and lean back in the chair. Then I take in the rare pleasure of seeing you finish _my_ dish. Draining the last of the wine, I smile as you lick your spoon. When you notice my eyes on you, your tongue flicks out lasciviously.

I grip the table and lean towards you.

“I won’t be able to take much more sexual tension, you know,” I purr. “It’s going to be hard enough being next to you in darkness for two hours. So. Very. Hard...”

_"Oh I *know*, darling!" I sympathize. "Really, if the lower orders don’t set you a good example, what on earth is the use of us?"_

_You laugh out loud at that. I continue, "Oh, I do apologize. I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them."_

_"Alright, alright," you hold up your hands. "Please, do not think too harshly of me though. I hope I shall not offend you if I state frankly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection..."_

_You ask for the bill and pay it; then we walk across the street to the theatre. It's quarter past seven and the auditorium is starting to fill up. I take in the surroundings; the scrollwork, chandeliers, painted panelling; the muted sounds of people softly chatting; sniff deeply of the *smells* of paint, wood, old plush... it’s enchanting._

_When I was young, I wanted to be a dancer - a ballet dancer. My da said it was for sissies. My mam didn't mind, but of course she had no money for lessons, so I'd take books from the library and try to learn the moves described in them, imagining myself on a stage like this, my body expressing the beauty of the music, weaving it with the emotions of the story, keeping the audience spellbound..._

_Maybe one day I will yet. Maybe when we have a bit of money I can go to a local dance centre. Even if it's too late to become a professional, I could do it for fun. And acting - I've always wanted to try acting as well. I think I'll be good at it - I can pretend very convincingly._

_Time to see how it's done. I can't wait - I love the entire atmosphere here, it's *magic*..._

_You lead me to the back of the stalls. "I couldn't get better seats, sorry," you smile apologetically, but I shake my head - "It's *perfect* Sebbie-"_

I can feel your excitement building as we wait. Your eyes never stop scanning - the front of the theatre where the stage waits behind lush curtains... the audience buzzing with hushed conversations... the layout of the space, with its balcony and exit signs and ushers pointing people to their seats.

I do enjoy plays... but experiencing them through your eyes, I think I may just fall in love with them...

My eyes catch yours, and you give me an awed smile. Throwing caution to the wind, I take your hand in mine and place it on my thigh. If two men can’t enjoy a special moment during an Oscar Wilde play, then... where can they?

Darkness descends upon us. My hand squeezes yours, and you squeeze back.

_A bell rings and an amplified voice tells everyone to take their seats, as the play will begin in two minutes._

_Excitement is building inside me. Your hand takes mine, and oh god I love you, Sebastian, but nearly all of my attention is focussed on the curtain... What is happening behind it? The actors waiting, listening to the sounds of the last people shuffling to their seats, the conversations continuing until the lights start dimming - their adrenaline must be racing..._

_The lights are completely out, and the curtain lifts._

It’s a good thing I saw the play just yesterday (was it really such a short time ago?) - even with my eyes on the stage, my attention is entirely on you. Your intakes of breath... your delighted laughter... your head falling back as you react to what’s happening on the stage. Your facial expressions are so animated - you’re not usually like this out in the world. It’s such a joy to see.

When the lights flood the space for the interval, I look over at you.

“How are you enjoying it?” I ask, grinning. I already know the answer but I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to say.

_The play starts, and I'm engrossed. I'm transported in a way no film or tv-show has ever managed. I know that I'm in a theatre; it's not that I lose awareness of my surroundings, but I love this play, and seeing it come to *actual* life before our eyes rather than on a small screen - the set is magnificent, beautifully opulent, and the actors are *superb*, the costumes *amazing*, such eye for detail - I soak it all in, laugh at the jokes that I know so well, but which were always meant to be spoken, and gain so much - Algernon is *exactly* like I would have wanted him to be, like I would have cast him and wanted him to act if I were the director, and Lady Bracknell... an older actress, and actually English, she steals the show._

_When the lights go up and the curtain comes down for the interval, for a moment I am too full of - everything - to act or speak. You are beaming at me like you staged the entire production yourself purely for my enjoyment, ask me how I'm enjoying it. I start gushing about *everything* - Algernon's diction, Cecily's little manner of holding her head at a coquettish angle, the bookshelf which self-referentially contains a collection of Wilde's plays, the accuracy of Lady Bracknell's umbrella - until I self-consciously realize I've been talking non-stop for eight minutes. Abruptly I halt._

_"Sorry-" I say, but you shake your head. "No, Jim, don't apologize - I am delighted you're enjoying it so much! And your observations are so spot-on - I didn't realize any of that yesterday. I should take you to see all the plays I am reading for sixth form - oh wait, I won't need to read them. Well, I will still take you to as many plays as I can - it's obvious you're a natural theatre critic._

_Would you like a drink?"_

_A drink? Oh - "Sure -"_

_"I'll get you one - wine?" you ask. I nod, and watch you walk out of the auditorium. I realize we've been sitting hand in hand for the entire play, and I barely registered it._

I wait in the queue, marvelling that I can enjoy a night out at a posh restaurant and theatre, dressed to the nines. Funny, I wanted nothing to do with cultured life before, but now... if it’s with you, I could see myself enjoying it - here and there anyway. As long as there’s plenty of nights of drinking and dancing, fighting and fucking...

And eventually, travelling to distant lands. Far off the beaten path that the aristocracy sticks to.

God, Jim... how much I look forward to our life together... and falling asleep every night in your arms.

When I return with our glasses of wine, I can’t help myself. I take your hand and kiss it longingly. A month can’t come soon enough...

_You hand me my glass, then take my other hand and kiss it so sweetly - I just want to grab you and kiss you, but - well. Later..._

_"Thank you," I say. "For - everything."_

_How can I ever express what you've done for me? Taking me on this date. Giving me my first kiss. The amazing sex…_

_But most of all, bringing me back to life. Giving me hope for the future. Before this, the only reason I kept going was Georgie; I wanted to make things right for him. I didn't think I could ever feel joy, or love, or happiness again. And then you came, and barged right in with your big boots and blue eyes, and I didn't stand a chance, did I..._

_The play is starting again, and again I feel that sensation of magic when the lights dim in the auditorium and the curtain goes up - and again I'm captivated and enchanted._

I hold your hand again throughout the second act. You’re so swept up in the play, I make sure not to distract you - just lightly stroking your hand during sweet moments.

When the play finishes and the cast comes out for their bows, thunderous applause washes over us. Your face is alight with pleasure, and I feel my heart glowing in response.

As the house lights come up and we wander out with the rest of the audience, I can’t stop beaming at you. “There will be many more plays in our future. Just you wait...”

_I applaud till my hands hurt. That was amazing, magical, epic. I want more of this - so much more of this._

_I saw on a poster in the lobby that there are sometimes special cheap tickets available on Mondays - we could go occasionally, as a treat - Georgie is old enough now to either come or stay home on his own._

_A small shard of ice pierces my heart, but nowhere near as large and painful as it usually is when I think of Georgie._

_It's going to be alright... I will find him. I'm good at finding stuff out._

_We walk the short walk to the Fitzsimonses', me chattering about the play, you occasionally managing to get a word in. You look so proud and happy that you've given me this - you're so sweet..._

When we finally get into the house, I kick the door shut and lock it behind me. Then I approach you stealthily. “God, it was driving me mental... seeing you in that suit and barely being able to touch you. Being so close and not being able to kiss you...” I growl, and sweep you up against me. “Hello,” I say in a low, rough purr before capturing your lips with mine.

_"Don't you crease my suit, Tiger..." I giggle. "I don't have servants who iron it for me..."_

_"You do - I will," you assure me. "You best get upstairs before the suit gets torn at the seams..."_

_Ohhh - hungry Tiger. I head upstairs, you follow me into the bedroom, grab me as soon as we're through the door, throw me onto the bed, jump on top of me, kiss me hard, pulling me close, rubbing yourself against me._

I pull my jacket off, and then yours. You look at me sternly, nearly daring me to throw it on the floor. I just grin, get up and place them carefully on the chair with a flourish.

“Good?” I say, staring at you as I loosen my tie, throw it off and begin to unbutton my shirt. You mirror my actions, and we stare at each other hungrily as we pull our shirts off.

_Your undershirt is tight and your muscles and nipples are clearly visible; then that last barrier too disappears, as I take off mine and hang it over the footboard._

_You look at me with your eyes ablaze, and it's so *delicious* to be desired so, to have that effect on someone, and *incredible* to have that effect on someone so beautiful, so lovely, so magnificent..._

_I carefully unlace my shoes and put them under the bed as you toe yours off; then you dive back on top of me, moaning with desire._

I reach down to unzip your trousers, partly sit up to pull them off. Then I shimmy out of mine, and the trousers fly across the room to join the blazers on the chair.

“Ti-gerrr... my suit better be pristine,” you sing, and I cover your lips with mine. When we break off from our heated kiss, I stare at you.

“By the time I’m done... it’ll be fucking perfect,” I mutter, my hands sliding down your torso and gripping your hips. I don’t think I’m talking about the suit anymore... and I don’t care. I peel down your pants, and throw them to the floor, soon to be followed by mine.

_I let you do what you want, for now. Like I said, it is nice to feel so desired... I wouldn't want to rein that enthusiasm in. Your cock is eagerly rubbing against mine, your breath comes fast, you're kissing and grasping every inch of me you can reach... you poor starving Tiger._

Hmm... I’ve never had such freedom before... how long will I be permitted to roam...?

Let’s just see, shall we?

I explore you reverently, stopping to kiss, lick, nip so many delicious parts of you...

your earlobes, which makes you squirm -

under your jaw, which makes you groan softly -

your neck, which makes you melt -

your nipples, which makes you shiver -

down over your chest and abdomen, which makes your breath ragged -

And then - hello, beautiful...

I promise you’ll be very happy, but why don’t you enjoy the anticipation for now...

You look down to see why I’ve paused, your eyes huge and dark. I smile slyly, and move down further on the mattress. Then I lift up your leg, and give the same treatment to your foot, letting my lips slide lightly over each toe, making you gasp breathily the first time - by the end, your eyes are half-closed, and your lips are parted as if you’re saying ‘ohh’... I drag my tongue over your arch, making you writhe.

“You taste so good... everywhere...” I mutter, my lips moving over the top of your foot, nipping when I get to your leg and making your jerk slightly.

“You intoxicate me...” I breathe, pressing kisses along your calf... smiling as your muscles quiver...

_So. Many. Sensations..._

_Every area of my body feels different - my neck makes me all gooey, my nipples make me horny; your tongue feels so hot in some places and just warm in others..._

_You're worshipping my foot, and it's so sensitive, and erotic in a gentle way rather than an in-your-face way - so many things I had never considered I could feel. It's a journey of self-discovery, almost, lying here and feeling your attentions and observing the responses they evoke in me. I want to know *everything* you can do to me Tiger... and everything I can do to you. From rough and hard to endlessly gentle... we have a lifetime to explore, and I'm not sure that is going to be enough._


	19. Hot in the City

Your skin is so delectable as I travel up your leg... kissing and nibbling the tender flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath is so ragged as I do...

Hmmm... what to do when I get to the best bits?

I raise your leg higher and run my tongue along your groin... teasing you by avoiding your cock... licking your perineum... and dipping my tongue in between your cheeks. You shiver and groan as I press it harder against your opening... the shivers grow more intense and you pant breathily under my ministrations.

_Oh - what are you - *oh?*_

_Do you - can people - enjoy - oh fuck - oh god Sebastian -_

_I hear a weird sound, like a strangled mew - surely that wasn't me –_

I revel in the feeling of your body quivering and melting at my touch, the beautiful noises that float towards the ceiling - like that, do you baby?

This seems like it’s very new to you... which makes me feel like I’m helping you reclaim your body for yourself... God... the significance of such a thing makes me feel nearly dizzy at the thought.

Should I check in with you?

I nuzzle your inner thigh. “Is this alright?” I breathe, gently nibbling on the skin.

_“Mrrrhmmhm...” I reply. Eloquent enough for you, because you continue, tiny nips and kisses along the length of my thigh, all the way down to my knee, and then up the other side._

_How long are you going to keep this up? Is this something you enjoy? Or are you just doing it for me? It’s so decadently luscious to have someone kiss your entire body, and it’s so thrilling to feel all these different sensations..._

I crawl over you, rubbing your beautiful cock with my own, well aware of how I'm teasing you.

But I want to know -

"What do you want, Jim?" I murmur, kissing your neck.

_"Hnhrhmng?" I ask. What? Why do I have to get involved? I was absolutely fine letting you explore what I could feel..._

_But my cock is longing for that luscious attention only you can give... and I do want to hurt you, but I may just be too relaxed - could you kneel on a bed of nails while giving me a blow job?_

_"Your mouth - god, your mouth Sebastian - make me come with your mouth..."_

I grin and return to my former site of worship.

“I am but a humble knight devoted to his king...” I murmur, stroking your cock with a feather-light touch. “And you do me great honour by such a request...”

Your cock twitches and you give a whining sigh, and finally, finally I slide my lips over your cock and settle into a deliciously slow rhythm. Let’s see how long it takes before you’re pulling my hair and making demands, I think with pleasure...

_You're so dedicated to giving me the best time possible, all the time - I do suspect I am really dying in a ditch after an overdose and am dreaming up the perfect life._

_And what a way to go, really..._

_You seem to be going slow, so slow, but I'm already so relaxed, I'm just letting myself sink into your skilful ministrations, your hot mouth, your dexterous tongue..._

_"Ngng... Tiger..."_

“Mmnh,” I purr, and flash you a hungry smile.

Your eyes grow even darker with desire as you stare back at me... your hands float to my head, and your fingers slowly work their way through my hair...

god yes... _now_ we’re getting there...

eyes fixed on each other, I suck you slightly harder, and you begin to pant as I do...

_I'm afloat on a cloud nine of bliss but it's getting too good, unbearably good... I need I need more I need..._

_"Sbastian..."_

_My fingers dig into your scalp as my back arches, my pelvis tilts –_

You let me know you’re ready in so many ways that I now _know_ -

I know the signs of your orgasm building, I know the sounds of your ecstasy mounting, and finally teetering over that edge - so intensely pleasurable, it’s nearly torturous until you fall...

You moan loudly and I give a low growl in response...

Yes, Jim... let go...

_Too much - too *much* -_

_Sebastian you incubus - you're killing me - no -_

_I don't know *what* sounds I'm making, and I no longer care; thank fuck the Fitzsimonses' is free standing -_

_And when it comes it's overwhelming, intense, unending..._

_Oh -_

_*god* -_

_"Seb..."_

_A quiver in the syllable, vulnerable, lost –_

_I am lost, I am totally lost, but you find me, again and again and again..._

Your body shudders and then begins to spasm in ecstasy... you gasp and moan my name and it’s so _fucking beautiful..._

God... how could all those endless hook-ups ever compare to what I have in you...

my Jim...

I continue to suck you until you protest weakly, and then within an instant I’ve moved up to gather you up against me. I kiss your forehead gently and sigh in contentment.

_"You're going to be the death of me..." I pant. "And I couldn't ask for a better one..."_

_"Absolutely not," you protest. "I'm going to protect you from anything and everything that could ever hurt you. You're always going to be safe with me, Jim..."_

_You pull me close, and I realize you're thinking of what could happen when you're away. I'll be *fine*, Sebbie... I'm not a weak kitten, regardless of what you may think..._

_Your cock is inquisitively pushing against my thigh - yes, of course, my sweet... I push you up, scoot down, and still lying on my side, because I'm still indolent and lazy, I guide you inside my mouth._

And now it’s my turn... I’ve never been so unconcerned with my own orgasms. After chasing them for four years, relentlessly, obsessively...

 _So_ unlike me.

But when it’s imminent, I’m going to strap myself in and enjoy the ride...

Your mouth closes over my cock, and a dazed smile spreads across my face.

“Oh god...” I groan, as the ride begins...

_I try to do it the way you did it for me - slow and deep, making you tremble and groan, until you're nearly insensate, when I will release you..._

_I love the sounds you make, the shivers and moans, the whines, the way all your muscles tense when you're near - yes Sebbie? You want this? You want your King to bestow this boon upon you?_

_Very well - you shall have it, my faithful Knight..._

Fuck yes...

Make me come...

so hard...

in that delectable mouth...

oh god...

yes...

My body begins to shake and I begin to pant and moan increasingly louder and faster…

So close...

_Come for me, Sebastian..._

_I move fast, in a steady rhythm, your back arches, and you nearly *howl* as your seed shudders out of you. You stuff a fist in your mouth, bite your knuckles, as you shiver and buckle, until you are completely spent, and I move back up, where you put an exhausted arm around me._

_We lie for a moment, catching your breath. It’s wonderful just being close._

When I’ve finished panting, I turn to you. “So. I know it wasn’t our _first_ date... but that was all drinking and deviance,” I say with a grin. “For our first proper grown-up date, I’d say it went well...” I lean in and kiss you softly. “I hope you’ll want many more...”

_"So. Many..." I sigh, kiss you back._

_My face turns serious._

_"So..." I say, "when were you going to tell me about the ball tomorrow?"_

My eyes widen and then my mind goes strangely blank and noisy at the same time. Like I’m hearing ‘what?! How?! You couldn’t know!’ in an endless loop.

I shake my head in confusion. “I was - I was going to - how did you -“

Fuck’s sake, Seb. Own up to it.

I exhale slowly. “Tomorrow. I didn’t want to risk spoiling tonight...” I say in a quiet voice.

“How did you - know? Did I mention having to go to a ball when we first met?? I honestly forgot about it, after everything... I thought I’d be off the hook...” I say miserably.

_You have the decency to look miserable. Quite rightly so, Sebastian - it's one of our precious nights, gone._

_"It's been all over the society pages - this ball is the event of the season. Of course your family would be invited, if you're in Dublin. I thought maybe you'd managed to get out of it, but you were wearing brown shoes tonight."_

_"... shoes?" you repeat._

_"You wore black shoes yesterday. They look better with a charcoal suit, so you'd have worn them again tonight - unless you were getting them polished for the ball tomorrow. Of course you could have asked a servant to polish them tomorrow, but you hate making extra work, so you left them at the house, to be done tomorrow morning with the rest of the shoes._

_So - you going with Victoria? A full night of dancing and fawning?"_

_I'm not jealous._

I stare at you, flabbergasted. You got all that from... newspapers and shoes??

“Victoria called me and told me our parents are sharing a table. I had no idea any of that had been arranged... but I guess everyone just assumed we would go -“ I sigh heavily. “Look, I don’t want to go to a fucking _ball_ with my fucking parents - and god help me, _Victoria_. You must know that... you _must_ know I don’t want to miss seeing you. If you want me not to go...” I trail off, and cover my eyes with my hands. “I’m afraid Victoria would not take it well, and there would be our perfect alibi - not just gone, but furious... and probably more than happy to cause trouble...” I wince. “But I can see you afterwards - if you want to...”

If you’re not too angry with me... fuck...

_So it's true._

_I had been kind of hoping I might be wrong - but of course not..._

_"Afterwards - yeah," I say, trying to hide my disappointment. "How long do these things last? And - do you have any idea when your dad will want to leave Ireland?"_

_It's all getting so frighteningly close... how will I ever get through not seeing you for - how long? Six hours? Eight? Ten? tomorrow - and then a *month*... when I can only breathe when I'm with you..._

I feel a small flare of hope. “They can go late, but... I’ll just have to explain to Victoria and maybe bribe her if I have to. If she doesn’t want to leave with me, then… I’ll just say I have a headache and leave early. I’m sure they’ll all be _terribly disappointed_...“ I roll my eyes, already annoyed about spending an evening with insufferable tossers. “But - I’ll just tell them I felt better and met up with her later.“

I stroke your face. “I’m sorry, Jim... I guess I was naive to think I wouldn’t have to go. Of course bloody Victoria would want to attend a ball - and flounce about with a trophy boyfriend,” I say, and bite back a curse at how that sounds. “Please don’t think I have a swollen head... I just know these people. They only care about appearances... and what someone can do for their prestige. You’re the only person who sees me for me... and loves me for who I am, whether I have money or not...”

Shakily I pull you into a hug. “I guess I need to ask about what the plans are for leaving... maybe they haven’t been in a hurry to decide because they thought the longer Victoria had to sink her hooks into me, the better...

The truth is, I’ve - been afraid to ask,” I admit in a whisper, and close my eyes. What’s if it’s soon??

_"Me too..." I admit._

_It seems so unfair, to have our lives depend on the whims of some corrupt English Lord. Well - it's been most people's reality over the past centuries... but it's still unfair._

_"A month just seems so incredibly long..." I feel tears get into my eyes - no - fuck's sake Jimmy. Stop being a whingy idiot._

_But you just seem to get inside me more and more... my life is Georgie, smack, and Sebastian... and I'm going to cut the smack. In no time at all you have become as important to me as my brother, and more - urgent - *like* the smack, the need for you is physical, acute, I go sick without you..._

_And I dread kicking you more than I dread kicking the smack... I know kicking the smack is hell, but it passes. I can't imagine you ever passing... so am I in for a full month of double hell?_

I hear your voice waver slightly. Are you-?

I don’t want to fixate on your emotions and try to protect you from every little thing... I know I have a tendency to do that. But - it’s _not_ a little thing! And - you’re hurting, and it’s my fault!

My arms tighten around you.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish there was some way... but if I disappear here, it’s going to be such a clusterfuck... even if I called to tell Mum I was safe. They wouldn’t leave... and my bloody father would spare no expense to make sure I was found. And it has nothing to do with love, not for him. I know he’d find me, and then there would be such... _ugliness_ ,” I say, bitterness tightening my chest as I remember moments in our sordid past. I struggle to breathe for a moment.

“I just need - a clean break... do you understand, Jim?” I ask urgently. My eyes suddenly flood with tears, and I feel _panic-stricken_...

Why do I feel so - fragile?? Why can’t I just stand up to my father and tell him to fuck off straight to hell??

Is it weakness on my part that I can’t? I’m afraid it might be... and I wish I could be stronger for you, my Jim...

_Oh shit now look what you've done; you've upset him..._

_Stop being such a crybaby Moriarty. You've been alone for years, under much more challenging circumstances. All you need to do is survive for a fucking month._

_"I know, I know, Sebastian... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty... I'll be fine. It's just a month - I'm secure; I'll get through it - I'm just being selfish, I'm sorry... I'll miss you, but we'll call, and I'll count the days, and the month will be past before we know it..."_

“You’re _not_ being selfish,” I protest, trying desperately to swallow around a lump in my throat and keep a sob from breaking free.

“You’re not, I’m just -“ I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling without loud ugly crying... and that’s _not_ how I imagined the end of our perfect night.

“I’m just sorry,” I murmur, burying my face in your hair.

_"No Seb, don't be sorry..." Shit, I'm fucking this up..._

_"Seb... Sebastian..." I murmur into your shoulder, "you're doing this for *us*... You've already done more for me than anyone ever has, and you're planning to do more... so much more. You're the sweetest, most caring, best thing that's ever happened to me... please don't feel bad..."_

_Oh great I am crying now. What a way to end our evening... turn this around, damn it, Moriarty!_

Oh no... now I’ve done it...

And I can’t hold it back if you’re crying, Jim!

I feel the tears threaten to spill and then - with a shaky intake of breath, they’re suddenly streaming down my face.

“Y-you know I love you, right?” I hear myself asking, my voice raw. I swipe at the tears like gnats. “You know I would do - anything for you, don’t you??”

But I’m still leaving you alone for a month, I think as I’m overcome with sobs, muffled by your hair, now wet with my tears.

“God, and I’m so sorry about this stupid fucking ball...” I cry out, and then find myself laughing through my tears at how much like teenaged histrionics this sounds. Well, I guess we’re allowed to be melodramatic and ridiculous... our hormones demand it, after all.

“Worst fairy tale ever,” I mutter. “Unless the ballroom were to go up in flames or something... then the knight could go off to be with his true love, after all...” I sigh into your shoulder, and close my eyes.

_"Don't tempt me," I mumble, and you chuckle, thank goodness._

_"Sebbie... I know you love me. I really do. I - I'm sorry I get jealous, and angry, but deep down I *do* know - it's just - well, I'm a little shit sometimes. What you're planning to do - for me, and to be with me - it's amazing. And - being happy to have a brother thrown in as well - you're the most unselfish sweet loving boyfriend anyone could hope for, and -" I don't deserve you, I'm evil, the worst - "I'm incredibly lucky..."_

_Will I have to tell you some time? Or - can we just keep it as our secret, Georgie and I? If he even wants to be with me again... the one who killed his mother..._

_*Not now.* I'll deal with that when I have found him. No use speculating._

_"Just - you'll be here Sunday night, right? Your dad wouldn't just - pack up and leave the day after a big ball, right? Bound to be hungover, and things..."_

I shudder at the thought. “Doubtful... if he even tries, I’ll make a giant fuss about leaving. I could say Victoria and I had a fight and I need time to make things right with her... put the fear of god into them that I fucked up my one chance at respectability...” I snort. “As if! She might be an even bigger walking calamity than I am. She just hasn’t been caught with her pants down, as it were... But take it from someone caught in the act at a party, it’s a hell of a way to make an impression in high society...” I snigger, despite myself. Life hasn’t exactly been easy but at least I don’t have to pretend to be a picture-perfect Prince Charming...

_"What, I'm no chance at *respectability*?" I pout, glad we got to more cheerful territory. "Do you honestly think your parents weren't praying that you might meet a lower-class junkie thief boy and decide he's the love of your life? What caring mam and dad wouldn't want that for their son and heir?"_

_My face grows serious. "You better not be caught with your pants down tomorrow though. Verisimilitude be damned - if Victoria can't keep her hands to herself -"... then what? She does hold all the cards. Damn that lazy sod Stu - he hasn't got any pictures or knickers or any damning evidence of them fucking at all –_

My eyes widen at the flash of darkness in yours. A thrill of excitement moves through me at your display of jealousy. I don’t want to think of what you’d do to me if I did anything, although I hope you know I wouldn’t...

but what might you do to someone else who touched your things in a more serious way than whatshername at the theatre... god...

Oh you _like_ that do you, Moran? You like to be his favourite toy that’s not to be played with... his possession that’s not to be touched... his territory that’s not to be invaded - by anyone but _him?_

My face flushes at the thought.

Fuck yeah... I do like it... a little too much...

I exhale slowly. “I wouldn’t, and I don’t want to. As for her touching your things, I guess I learned that lesson yesterday...”

_Oh - what's that? Large dark eyes and a slight flush to the face?_

_Oh *Sebastian*... do you like the thought of me punishing you for letting my toys be touched?_

_Suddenly I'm feeling a lot better about myself. There's nothing like a strong gorgeous boy completely surrendering to you to make you feel on top of the world._

_"Oh my Sebastian..." I purr into your ear, "you don't want to know what would happen if she'd touch you. You're already in enough trouble as it is, depriving me of my rightful property for the night tomorrow. It's a good thing you won't be travelling on Sunday... I doubt you'll be able to sit down."_

I shiver at your voice in my ear, dripping through me like poison honey...

My lips part at your words, and I can’t speak for fear of sounding like a rusty instrument.

Oh my god... if I hadn’t just come a few minutes ago, I’d be hard as a rock right now. Are you going to whip my arse for denying you my company??

And then... take my arse as your _rightful property?_

I inhale, imagining you standing over me with your dark flashing eyes.

A belt in your hand.

And later, uncapping the lube...

I feel myself growing semi-erect. Our eyes meet, and you smile.

“ _Oh_ ,” I say weakly. “Thank you for the warning, Sir...”

_It never ceases to amaze and delight me how you love my dominant, possessive, and sadistic sides - and I love you all the more for it._

_"My delightful Tiger... *mine*..." I sigh happily, then push you with my hand. "Get me a rum and coke. You can get yourself a beer. There's rum in the drinks cabinet in the living room, coke in the fridge."_

_Being the King has more advantages than just being in charge during sexy times... I stretch out lazily, and you smile and get up. "Coming up, Sir..."_

With a grin I put on my socks and latex gloves ensemble, and do a model-like promenade around the room which culminates in a slow spin, much to your amusement. Then I strike a pose with my hands behind my head to make my muscles bulge, and tilt my chin up. I leave the room to whistling and catcalls, sniggering madly.

I’m glad you find me amusing, because I’ve always been a ham and I can’t go for long without being ridiculous...

When I return I’m carrying drinks on a tray, and play-acting like a waiter. “Your drink, Sir,” I say in a posh voice, and bend down theatrically for you to take your glass.

_"What, no umbrella? No straw? No ice??" I pout._

_"*Frightfully* sorry Sir, I will have the sommelier reprimanded," you assure me, and I take the glass, have a sip. Whoa - that's -_

_"Is there any coke in there?" I ask, nearly spluttering._

_"Sure! At least half," you grin, as you flop next to me on the bed, open your beer, have a long draught._

_"Ahhhhh..." I sigh. "The perfect end to a perfect day..."_

“Mmm-hmm... and soon this will be how every day ends. You and me naked in bed,” I clink my can against your glass, and guzzle some more before sighing contentedly. “Prepare yourself for _a lot_ of orgasms, my darling. You may have noticed, I’m rather insatiable...”

_"Oh, really? Well, now that you mention it - it does appear that you are rather lustful, indeed. And here I thought it was simply because I am irresistible..."_

“You are utterly, utterly irresistible...” I murmur. “And I’m _beyond_ insatiable when it comes to you...” I lean in to give you a lingering kiss.

_"You know, I think I *have* actually noticed..." I smile. "It's not like I had much to compare you to, though._

_I've never had anyone look at me the way you do... and it's so incredibly hot, but not just hot - it makes me warm through and through, that look - of desire, of love, of acceptance... you have such expressive eyes..."_

_I'm babbling, awkwardly trying to formulate a truth that goes beyond words. Instead I turn and stroke your face, looking into your dark green eyes._

I gaze at you in awe. God, your beautiful face...

“I could say the same thing about yours, Jim...” I murmur, holding your face in my hands. “It’s like - I feel like I could get lost in a dark and secret realm when I look into your eyes. And... part of me _wants_ to...” I say, dumbfounded at how true this is.

_Dark and secret... oh god Tiger you're so right..._

_But I'm going to be good for you, I swear._

_Only the sweetest dark secrets for my loyal Knight. Like that chocolate mousse I had earlier, not like the bitter bile that's inside me. I'll hide it all away in the bunker, bury it three miles deep, never to be seen again._

_"Are you tired?" I ask. "I kind of am... but it's been such a great day and I don't want it to end. And - I haven't said thank you, have I? Thank you so much - this has been the best day *ever*..."_

You don’t say anything in response, but you seem lost in thought for a moment. And then you seem determined - what goes on in that mind of yours, hidden away from the world? Will I be granted more access as time goes on? I’m well aware that it must be anomalous that you’ve opened your heart to me and shared as much as you have. When I think of what you were like at the beginning - my closed-off little thief... I feel a wave of relief that somehow against the odds, I happened upon the key to unlock your heart...

I beam at you as you thank me. “You have no idea how happy that makes me... it was amazing. I’m not too tired, but I can fall asleep whenever you do...”

When I’m with you, I don’t need to drink as much to fall asleep, I realize. You’re so good for me in so many ways... how will I get through this month without you?

_"I'll just..." I gesture to my jacket; you nod resignedly._

_"I'll quit when you're away," I say._

_That's a step further to what I said before - that I'd try it. But it feels right - having an extra motivation, not wanting to disappoint you. And I can do it - of course I can. I have tremendous willpower - all I needed was motivation. I'd have given up when I'd found Georgie - but I found you first._

“I’m going to drink less too... it gets a little out of control at times...” I admit. I’ve never said that to _anyone_ before...

“I don’t feel self-destructive when I’m with you... but I’ll still want to raise a little hell...” I say with a wry smile.

_I stop in my tracks when I hear you say that. You're - telling the junkie that *you* will be less self-destructive? And - because you're with me?_

_I look at you looking at me. I realize it's working both ways - you have given me back the will to live, but I've done the same for you. *I* have done that. For some unfathomable reason, I make you feel as good as you make me feel._

_"I love you, Sebastian..." I say, standing naked in the middle of the bedroom, suddenly overwhelmed by *feelings* so intense my knees nearly give way._

You look stunned. What did I say? Is it so surprising that I would cut back drinking?

(God, you really are a lush, Moran...)

 _Fuck off_... I have more important things on my mind.

My sweet boyfriend looking vulnerable and telling me he loves me, for instance...

I sit up. “I love you, too,” I say in a daze. I find myself standing. Moving towards you. Taking you in my arms. Kissing you passionately.

_I lose myself in the kiss, so sweet, so full of - everything we are, everything we have become in these past few days, everything we will be in the future –_

_You and me, and you for me, and me for you, and the two of us so much more than the sum of its parts..._

_I sigh, relax into your arms. I have come home._

I don’t know how long we stand there - you with your head resting against my shoulder, your arms around my waist.

I’m holding you like something beyond precious, and I’m bending down to rest my cheek on your hair.

As we rock side to side slightly, I feel like I could stay here forever with you.

“I’d want to stay in this moment forever,” I tell you. “Except... I want a home that’s ours. A life that’s ours. You and me against the world, Jim...”

The contented sigh I feel against my chest is everything I want, for always.

_"You and me forever, Sebastian," I murmur against your skin. You're right - I do wish time froze right now, but I also can't wait to do this in our *own* bedroom, in our own apartment, with cheap kerbside furniture that is wobbly and unevenly coloured, which looks out on grey concrete, and is small and draughty - but it's paradise, because it's *ours*, yours and mine, and we will paint the chairs and fix the draughts and hang pretty curtains and get plants and maybe a cat..._

_I don't know how much time has passed when I realize I'm getting chilly, standing here naked, and kiss you again, before I sit down at the table to cook up._

I do my best to ignore what's happening, and how it makes me worry for you... I grab another beer and sit on the bed, drinking it.

When you join me, your eyes are drooping. Wordlessly I lie down and lift my arm so you can cuddle against me - in 'your' spot on my shoulder.

I wrap my arms around you and you sigh softly.

"Sweet dreams, my Jim," I whisper and kiss your forehead.

_I'm warm and soft and safe and happy..._

_"I'm never happy. You make me happy, Sebastian..."_

"Well, that's my job now..." I say softly against your cheek. "And I intend to become very good at it..."

Only... it's hardly just a 'job', and we both know that. To be more accurate... it's my purpose.

"You are my mission, Jim... you are my _purpose_..." I whisper into your ear.

_I melt into your words, into your arms, into the bed..._

_"Thank you," I whisper._

_"Thank you."_

“This is nothing, Jim... just you wait...” I whisper back. I don’t even know what I’m saying, but I know it’s true...

The lengths that I will go to for you can’t even be expressed.

There’s not a lot in this fucked up world I’m sure about, but I know this deep in my bones - I was born for this... to be with you.

“I will be your protector...” I murmur into your ear, feeling your breathing slow down, feeling your body soften against mine. “I will be your love... for always.”

_Protector..._

_Love..._

_I've been so alone for... always..._

_I had mam, and Georgie, but mam hurt me, and Georgie... I was his protector..._

_No one ever protected me..._

_And I never knew that it could feel so good. When I was first on the streets, I used to dream of having someone like you... a big boyfriend, who'd beat up anyone who dared threaten me... it wasn't even sexual, just the thought of having someone who'd love me and keep me safe._

_You're all that, and so much more..._

_I sink into the blackness, so soft and sweet._

I sense you drifting towards sleep, and feel a pang at having to wait for hours until I can speak with you again. I press another gentle kiss into your forehead, and you stir and mumble something -

_Good night, good night?_

I smile. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” I agree softly, then cuddle against you and close my eyes.

_It's my dad._

_I don't often dream about my dad. But I know it's bad when I do._

_Annoyingly, I know it's a dream, but I can't get out of it._

_I can't see him - he's just a presence in the house that I'm trying to avoid. But I have to keep Georgie away from him too, and he's just a toddler, and happily running around in his blue pyjamas with the pink ice cream cones on them, and giggling when I pick him up and try to shush him._

_I can feel da approaching, he's looming, and he's going to hurt Georgie... I must hide him, must protect him, but where, where can I go, this place is so small -_

_And there's the shadow in the doorway. Large and dark and stinking of beer and cigarettes._

_And I know it's a dream, and I know what happened in the past, and I know it's going to happen again, and I don't want it to, but it all happens, it all happens again, exactly like it did happen, on a long-ago night, and so many nights since. I can't do anything, I can only go through the motions of years ago, because I am so much smaller than dad..._

I’m being pulled up from a vast dark realm... I awake to movement... sounds...

Blinking, I look at you in the dim room - twitching... muttering... and then you thrash and shout.

“Jim,” I call out. “You’re dreaming...”

I grasp your shoulders and stroke your face. “Jim, it’s Sebastian... wake up...”

_I'm trying to get dad to let Georgie go, but he's holding my shoulders and - stroking my face?_

_How?_

_A voice... a gentle voice, a beloved melodic voice, not my dad's loud gruff grunt -_

_Sebastian?_

_Suddenly I'm pulled back through the blackness, to a place which is not then, not there, but I'm not sure where or when - what bed is this? What is Sebastian?_

_I'm here, but I'm still there, and I'm shaking, and crying, and slapping, and there are soft arms which stroke me, not gripping, not bruising, repeating my name, in a sweet voice - "Jim... it's ok. It's OK Jim. You're dreaming. You're safe, you're with Sebastian... It's OK, Jim..."_

_"Sebastian?"_

God, you sound so scared, so shaken up...

“I’m right here,” I say reassuringly. “You were dreaming... nothing’s going to hurt you...”

“I was dreaming-“ your voice wavers, and I stroke your shoulder.

“I know... it was just a dream and it can’t hurt you. I’ve got you, Jim...” I whisper, and slide my arms around you. “I’ve got you...”

_I am still shaking, let myself be held in your arms now, you are safe, you are keeping me safe... it's what you do; you said._

_"It was - my dad..." I stammer. "Georgie was crying, and dad was yelling at him to shut up, and shaking him, and Georgie screamed in fear, and I tried to tell him it's alright, he could give Georgie to me, he'd be quiet with me, but dad was raging, and he shouted that he'd had more than enough of both of us, and he -"_

_I tremble, you're still stroking me, I go on, hardly realizing what I'm saying, but getting the fear out there, letting it spill out because it is too much to hold in -_

_" - he turned on the oven, and I smelled the gas, and he was holding Georgie in the oven, and he was - crying, but he was breathing in gas after each cry, and he kept getting weaker, and I'm screaming and beating da's back and arm, trying to get to the oven to pull Georgie out, but he's holding me back, and I am watching him die..."_

_My teeth chatter, my entire body is trembling at the memory._

_"That's when mam came home, she came into the kitchen - saw it -_

_\- that's when she left him, finally - just took us out in our pyjamas –_

_But when I dream, she doesn't -_

_\- always come -"_

I listen in horror, involuntarily drawing you closer as if to protect you from your past.

“Oh _god_ , Jim...” I say in a stilted voice as I feel your trembling body against mine. “That’s so _fucked up_...”

I shake my head. “Jesus fucking Christ... I’m so sorry you went through that. That’s - such a trite thing to say. Fuck...” I mutter, wincing. “But I so wish I could take it away for you... god, Jim...” I say, reeling at what you went through. You continue to shiver and I stroke you and murmur to you until your body starts to relax, and you sigh and rest against me.

I kiss your forehead gently and listen to you breathe. “And after _all that_... how did you turn out so _sweet?”_ I say in amazement.

_With endless patience you hold me, stroke me, murmur sweet words to me, and slowly, gradually, the shaking grows less, just the occasional shudder; I manage to get my breath under control, just the occasional hiccup, and I lean against you, in your arms, here and now, away from there..._

_And then - your words -_

_oh god Sebastian - if you knew -_

_you can never know, my love, my sweet, my knight in shining armour._

_I will try to be sweet for you. I must be._

_"I'm not sweet... I'm really not, Sebastian... not even to you. The things I get angry about - my insane jealousy..."_

I consider this as you lie in my arms, sniffling... telling me you’re _not_ sweet as I breathe in your mesmerizing scent.

“Alright, so... not _all_ of you is sweet. Not all of me is sweet, either!” I counter. “And I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you yet, and - well, that’s what relationships are about, right? Having the time to get to know someone inside and out? Good and bad? Wonderful and fucked up? So I can’t answer about what your ratio is of sweet:not sweet. But here’s what I know - I could spend a lifetime learning about who you are, Jim... and that’s what I want,” I say firmly. “So don’t try to convince me otherwise...”

_"I wasn't... that's how selfish I am, I want you to stay, I want you for myself..." I mumble. "And I want to know everything about you too._

_I can't wait... just - things like how you like your coffee make me so happy to learn, like I'm slowly unwrapping this wonderful present, and every bit I uncover makes me fall in love more..."_

_I have a final shudder._

_"I didn't mean to tell you all that. I'm sorry. I was just - but - I don't want you to feel sorry for me."_

“Believe me, I don’t,” I reassure you. “If anything, I’m more in awe of you - that you could go through a fucked-up childhood like that and come out as you did. So intelligent and self-educated, so capable on so many levels... and at such a young age, taking care of yourself and trying to take care of your brother. You’re not just a survivor... you’re a bloody force of nature, Jim,” I say, admiringly. “I feel so fortunate to have found you, and that you feel about me the way you do...” I stroke your face, gazing at you. I shiver at your words, that you fall in love with me more...

yes, _more,_ Jim...

fall in love so much more...

_Please don't say things like that - I'm so fucked up, Sebastian, so fucked up..._

_I'm intelligent and educated, yes - but I killed three people, one of whom was my mam._

_And I don't regret the other two, how's that for fucked up Sebbie? They deserved it - but try telling that to a normal person. The world doesn't like people taking matters into their own hands and removing pests from her surface... except in approved circumstances. If you're in a war zone, suddenly it's perfectly acceptable for young boys to kill each other. But god forbid you try to get a head start at school..._

_Anyway._

_That's all behind me now. I'm going to have a normal life, with you and Georgie, and I won't kill people, because I won't need to._

_I hope._

_"You make me a better person, Sebastian. And you make me feel so good..."_

“You, too,” I assure you, and lean in to kiss your lips. “It’s still early... do you need to sleep some more?”

_"Need to, no... I'd like to, I guess... but I also really enjoy just lying in your arms. I'm sorry, I'm not feeling very sexy at the moment..."_

“I imagine not... you just had a nightmare... and then divulged something traumatic from your past...” I soothe. “You lie there for as long as you want. And if you get sleepy again, you’ll sleep. If not, a lovely greasy breakfast will make you feel better, I’m sure...” I say with a smile.

_"Thank you Seb... you're the best boyfriend ever..." I sigh, and we lie down under the blankets. Your hand keeps stroking me and it feels so soothing... what is it about skin being rubbed repeatedly that makes one's mind calm down? It seems strange - but it's so nice…_

_I feel nearly all relaxed again... that never happens after a nightmare._

_No, don't think about the nightmare - just think about - Sebastian... his sweet voice, sweet hand, sweet breath..._

_I don't think five minutes have passed before I'm asleep again._

I lie awake for a long time listening to you breathe before allowing myself to start drifting again. When I wake with a start, you’re sleeping peacefully, curled up around me. But when I stretch slightly, I feel you stirring.

“Bastian?” you murmur into my neck.

“Right here, Jim,” I say, closing my eyes and smiling.

_"You 'wake?" I ask sleepily._

_"Not if you don't want me to be," you whisper._

_"Oh... good," I reply, and fall back to sleep._

I chuckle and slide my arms around you firmly. This time it takes me a while to fall asleep. But I'm not bored as I would be with anyone else. I just feel... content. Blissful. Complete.

When I eventually drift off and wake up again - you're blinking and cuddling closer and the bliss continues...

"Morning, sunshine..." I murmur.

_Yes, sunshine... *you* are the sunshine, even in the blacked-out room. Your smile makes the world light up and my heart glow._

_"Good morning, gorgeous..." I snuggle close to you._

_We have lazy, sweet, delicious morning sex, and you make me one of your signature breakfasts again, leaving me too full to contemplate walking for at least a week._

_"What time will you have to leave?" I ask, drinking my second coffee._

I sigh, pushing back my plate. "If I arrive shortly before it’s time to leave, that will ensure an epic meltdown. So I’d better arrive by mid-afternoon, I suppose. Plenty of time to reassure them I’ll be joining them for an obnoxious dinner before the ball...”

I cover your hand with mine. “I’m so sorry about tonight,” I say mournfully. “Will you be alright?”

_Oh... I swallow to hide my disappointment. I'd hoped you'd not have to leave till late afternoon. An entire twelve hours without you... how did I ever use to function?_

_The temptation to just take a good dose of smack and doze the time away is significant... I've been frugal these past days, just making sure not to get sick; I have some left. I'm running low on money though... but you'd hate it if I went out to work. Never mind - I'll manage for today and tomorrow, and after that you can give me some money, if you insist._

_I lift my head, smiling bravely. "I can't wait to see you after... and make you feel my displeasure."_

_Best to focus on that, rather than the many many hours to get through before._

I lean in to kiss you. “Mmm. Me too... It’s all I’ll be able to think about. Will you stay here when I go? Or come back later?”

I try to not fixate on the look on your face when you realized I’ll be leaving in a while... god, how am I going to get through this ridiculous evening when all I care about is you??

_"I'll go to the flat - I don't want to walk around in my suit all day. I want to keep it nice."_

_And I need to get some smack off Bennie._

_"I'll make sure I'll be here when you get back though. I prefer being here to being in the flat any time - it's quieter and cleaner, and... well - it reminds me of you._

_You know to be careful when you get back that you're not seen, yeah? We don't want people to call the guards..."_

Awww... I picture you waiting in the flat for me and feel a pang of guilt.

“I’ll be thinking of you the whole time...” I assure you. “Desperately wishing I could just ditch the whole stupid thing... and yes, I’ll be careful getting back in... no guards are going to stop me from getting back to you after so many hours apart.” I take your hand and raise it to my lips.

_It aches, it hurts, it seems *so long*, but I can do this - it's only twelve hours._

_I don't want to think about the *month*... get through this first._

_"Don't think of me too hard..." I smile, cupping a hand on your cock. "Don't want Victoria to get the wrong idea."_

“Mmm... It will be challenging not to think of you too hard...” I smile with pleasure at the sensation and close my eyes. “ _And_ to imagine what you might do to me after...”

_I feel my eyes grow dark, and I get up and sit down on your lap, pushing myself close to you, looking you in the eyes, which are doing that thing - that thing that makes me weak in the knees, makes my heart race and tear at my ribs, desperate to break free and jump to you, makes my pelvis tingle... They're growing wide and soft, surrendering, surrendering to me, to whatever I want; and I swear if I love you any more I will *die*, my heart will explode..._

_"When you get back, Sebastian, I want you to tell me everything..." I whisper in a rough voice. "Not what happened at the ball; that's boring and irrelevant - I want you to tell me everything you thought about... everything you imagined I might do, what you hoped for, what you feared, what you really didn't dare think about... I want you to lay yourself bare for me, not just your body, but your mind... your fantasies... whatever comes up during a long, long night when you're waiting to be reunited with the one who *owns* you..."_

_I pull your head back by your hair, bite your neck - under the collar, no one will see - if you keep your shirt nice and buttoned up all night..._

Ohhh, are we going to-

You’re sitting on my lap, staring with those dark eyes that make me feel like you’re going to devour me, and god, do I want you to...

I listen to your words, your voice, in a daze - feeling myself slip sideways and under. God...

You pull me by the hair and bite my neck, making me moan.

“I will...” I breathe. “Fuck yes, I will...”

_I get up off your lap, looking pleased at the large dazed eyes and the red bruise on your collar bone._

_"Mine," I smile, then sit down again and sip my coffee with a grin._

“All yours,” I assure you, still feeling disoriented.

When it’s time to wash up, I wave you away and you wander back to the bedroom. As I wash and dry our breakfast dishes and put them away, I find myself singing.

_Oh, the heads that turn_

_Make my back burn_

_And those heads that turn_

_Make my back, make my back burn, yeah_

_The fire in your eyes_

_Keeps me alive_

_And the fire in your eyes_

_Keeps me alive_

I throw the sponge overhand into the little dish by the side of the sink, and it lands inside. Then I make my way back upstairs where I find you sprawled out on the bed, reading. I fling myself onto the bed, making you roll to the side quickly and then bounce up and down as I land.

“Se- _bas_ -tian,” you protest, and I take the book from your hand and toss it aside. “Ruffian,” you say archly and I laugh out loud.

“Oh, you’ll get your book back,” I grin. “I just need my breakfast tax...” I say, leaning in for a kiss.

“I was not informed of this before I was lured with breakfast,” you say loftily, but you don’t stop me from capturing your lips. My arms circle you, and we kiss sweetly until I lose all track of time.

_There's nothing like lying in your arms, kissing endlessly... I love kissing; I can't believe I never saw the point - well, it does seem like a rather odd pastime, when you haven't experienced it. But it's warm and wet and intimate and loving and there are so many ways to do it... passionate, with tongues wrestling, or soft, with little licks of the lips, or even with little nips of the teeth involved... exploring your neck, your jaw, your ears with my mouth, making you shiver, making you sigh, feeling you do the same to me, finding erogenous zones I'd never suspected..._

_It's way too soon that you pull back with a sad look on your face. "I'm really going to have to go..."_


	20. Like a Virgin

We both get dressed as if we’re preparing for our own executions... finally I look at you and laugh, shaking my head.

“Drama queens,” I grin. “We’re going to see each other later today. It’s not the end of the world - just something annoying to get out of the way. Right?”

You smile at me bravely. “Right, Tiger.”

I sling my arm around you and kiss your forehead. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder... I don’t see how mine could grow any fonder, but - I suspect it will make certain parts of me long for you all the more...” I wink. “Shall we plan for some epic debauchery to have something to look forward to?”

_"Oh don't you worry about that..." I reply. "While you are doing whatever it is posh people do at balls, I'll be planning sweet sweet debauchery... best not get too drunk. You wouldn't want to *disappoint* me..."_

“I won’t... Just enough to handle being amongst posh people at a ball,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll save getting debauched with the only one who matters...”

_"What's it like, a ball? It just sounds so - last century," I say. I can't help it; I can only see scenes from costume dramas whenever I think of "the ball"._

I groan softly. “It _is_ so last century... they’re full of self-important people who are actually quite useless. All trying to outdo each other, and vying for each other’s envy in the most superficial ways you can imagine. I’ve _never_ enjoyed a ball...” I grumble. “Well... except for the ones where I got in trouble afterwards for misbehaving,” I grin.

_"Oh, do tell me..."_

I bat my eyelashes at you. “ _Allegedly_ misbehaving... I was perfectly innocent every time.”

I grunt as I receive an elbow in the ribs.

“I said... _Tell me_...” you growl playfully.

I pretend to think. “Now let’s see... _Someone_ left a smoke bomb in the ladies’ toilets... and my father was given to think that no lady could have done such a dreadful thing! So when _someone_ was accused of the crime and was too drunk to do anything but burst out laughing... Lord Moran seemed to think that was all the evidence that was needed...” I look at you sorrowfully.

_Oh._

_"What - did he do?"_

Aww - you seem so concerned. The saucy grin returns to my face. “Oh no, I was just taking the piss,” I assure you. “The tosser screamed and yelled... and said I was grounded for a month. But it’s not like I listened. I snuck out, and then got in more trouble. I was called useless and smacked around a few times,” I shrugged. “Business as usual in Moran manor...”

It bothered me more than I let on. But I have so little time with you, I don’t want to waste it talking about Lord Fuckwit Moran.

_My palms hurt - oh. I'm digging my nails into them._

_I release my fingers, but the tension stays. *Fucking* Lord Moran - daring to lay a *finger* on you - I want to pull you close, keep you here, out of his filthy claws -_

_*You will, Jimmy, just give it a few more weeks... and most of that he's not going to be with his dad anyway.*_

_Still - I want to make him *bleed*..._

_Keep it down, Moriarty. Normal people don't appreciate you getting all homicidal at their parents._

_I just pull you close._

And now you seem... angry. Oh - about how my father treats me?

God - welcome to the fucking club. I’m so used to keeping this to myself... no matter what. Even Mum doesn’t know, except the few times he left marks - and then he realized it wasn’t worth the aggravation of dealing with her afterwards. At least Mum stuck up for me, just - not very effectively, once he learned not to leave a trace of his tantrums...

I realize you’ve been holding me for a while - my eyes are on the verge of wetness, but - I can’t go there. Not as I’m preparing to leave you. I won’t be able to go...

My arms slide around you. I sigh and let you pull me closer.

“I love you,” I mumble into your shoulder. “You know that, right?”

_I know... and it's not fair. The world's not fair._

_I'm going to subdue it, make it tremble, not let it hurt either of us ever again. I *will*, Sebastian. I can do anything when I'm with you._

_But now you have to go. And I have to let you go. I'm not making this easy on either of us._

_"I know... I know, my love. And I love you. And that's all that matters..."_

_I pull back, give you a last kiss - oh god, your eyes are shining -_

_"Only a few hours - I'll see you tonight..."_

_It's taking all my strength to not grab you tight again._

I smile at you bravely. “It’ll be over before we know it,” I reassure you.

As if. As if the minutes won’t drag for me...

But I imagine it would feel worse for you, feeling like you’re, what - missing out on something grand? I suppose it could seem that way, if you didn’t know this world inside and out like I do. It’s not grand. Or glamorous or like a fucking faerie tale.

It’s a battlefield, where people who can’t stay on top are thrown aside, without mercy - sometimes left bleeding to die. It’s ruthless and it’s horrid. And I refuse to see it as otherwise.

But if you grew up poor, then it might seem like the stuff of romantic dreams to be whisked away in beautiful clothes... dancing to lush music in an opulent ballroom.

How I wish I could take you, Jim...

I kiss you softly. And then we head to the door where I’ll make my sorrowful exit, away from you and back to the ‘real world’... god help me.

_I can't even watch you leave - we must be careful not to be seen. So I stand behind the closed door, imagining I can still smell you in the air._

_I sigh, head up to the bedroom, tidy it up, then put on my suit - it feels so odd to wear it. Somehow without you by my side I don't feel nearly as powerful wearing it - more like an imposter._

_Still. I swallow, head out the door, to the bus stop, back to the flat. I hang the suit carefully in the garment bag, wash the shirt and undershirt and socks and leave them in the bathroom. I walk around the house restlessly, have a talk with Bennie, head out._

When I arrive at the manor, Mum comes to the door, flustered. “Oh, Sebastian. Good. We’ve barely seen you, and I didn’t want to have to call Lord Clement.”

Oh, thank fuck. I keep my face neutral. “What are you so worried about?” I ask casually as I make my way inside.

“Tonight is a big night, our families making an appearance together,” she says with a sunny smile. “I hope you know how delighted we are at this union...”

“This _union?”_ I echo. “We’re not exactly engaged you know, Mum...”

She hedges. “No, but... that’s how these things start out. And even if it _doesn’t_ go in that direction, well - it’s a good beginning - being involved with a girl from a good family. And there will be more at university, darling...” she says reassuringly - as if _I_ were the one fretting about it not working out?

Jesus, Mum...

I shake my head. “I thought it was girls who were pushed to be married at a young age... isn’t my expiration date far off in the distance?” I say tersely.

She laughs merrily. “Ha ha, darling...” she says as if we’re in on a joke. “It doesn’t hurt to start laying the groundwork now, for when you’re ready...”

“Groundwork. Right.” I sigh. “Well, it’s going to be a long night-“ (though not if I can help it), “so I’m going to get some rest...”

I start heading for the stairs, already exhausted at the thought of tonight.

“Dinner’s at 7, be ready by 6:30 please,” she calls after me, and I wave in response. Once in my bedroom, I sink into bed, and take a slug of whisky from my flask. I stare at the ceiling.

I wish I could call you...

Just under 12 hours to go... hopefully less. Where’s a smoke bomb when you need one? I smile faintly at the ceiling, and light a cigarette.

_I shoot up, have a nap, wake at five when Jenny and Sharky come in babbling loudly._

_At five fifteen I go out, get a sandwich, head to the Conrad where the ball will be, head to the back of the hotel, look at the place, until I see someone who looks like a waiter come outside for a smoke. He's too old, looks too serious - but wait. His colleague joins him - a younger lad. I wait until the older guy is back inside and go and have a word with youngster. He laughs and nods. I give him a small envelope._

The afternoon is tedious... dinner is a frightful bore... and by the time we meet up with Lord Clement and his family at the ball, I’m feeling about ready to throw myself out a window just to end this devastatingly dull night that’s taken me away from you...

Victoria is an effervescent vision in rose and gold draped fabric, and manages to pull off being elegant, slinky and hot as hell. She presses her cleavage into my chest when she leans in to kiss me hello. I turn my head slightly at the last moment so she partly kisses my cheek - but at least she can’t slip me any tongue. She rolls her eyes and gives me a knowing look.

“We’re supposed to be madly in love, eejit,” she whispers in my ear and caresses my cheek, then giggles madly. I laugh sarcastically as all hell. Our mothers smile approvingly and our fathers look disdainful of this overt display of affection and exuberance.

She grabs my hand and flounces towards a group of young people in dress suits and elaborate gowns, laughing inanely. My heart sinks.

 _Oh god..._ she wants me to meet her stupid friends. I tug on her hand and she looks back questioningly.

“I’m going to need a drink first. Can I bring you something?” I offer graciously.

“Bring me some champagne, and a date who knows how to have a good time. I expect big fun tonight, Sebastian Moran,” she admonishes and as she brushes my hair back, she deftly pinches my arse.

God, she’s all over me and the evening has just started... Hand. Cheeks and lips. Arse. I’m going to be black and blue by the time you get through with me, I think as I reach the bar. I give my order and wait. I glance back and Victoria licks her lips at me. I look away but a small, sex-crazed part of my brain is imagining what it would be like to peel Victoria out of that slinky dress, and bend her over in some cupboard. But it’s quickly obliterated at the thought of you punishing me for this evening. Stripping me naked in said cupboard and rogering me senseless until I’m screaming your name.

Oh god... as I feel myself getting flushed and hard, I realize I’m staring at the drinks in front of me. I ask for a water, and a moment later, I’m holding a cool glass against my cheek and focusing on the history of the Hundred Years’ War, until I can safely turn around.

Jesus. I have to tell you everything I’m fantasizing about tonight? But what if it’s something that makes you jealous? I have a feeling I’ll be screaming your name for real... This is getting scary hot...

I approach Victoria and her tittering friends and hand her the champagne glass.

“Are you alright, Sebastian?” she says, looking at me with sharp eyes. “You’re looking flushed...”

“It’s just a bit warm in here,” I say, my heart racing. God... you’ve made the evening exciting and terrifying, and you’re not even here... what am I in for later tonight??

_I get some supplies with my last money and head to the Fitzsimonses'. Totally worth it though... I hope._

_When there, I shoot up again, and try to sleep, but instead just sort of drift in and out of dozing._

_It occurs to me I could check on the bunker again. As I get to the area in my mind map, it looks near completion - amazing what the subconscious can work when you have a bit of energy to spare._

_When I close this up, I'll bury my past and all the pain that goes with it. A new start._

_With a new Tiger..._

Well, at least the booze is flowing copiously - even more so than back home. Yay, Ireland...

Of course, it only makes Victoria’s friends more silly and obnoxious, and encourages her to become more brazen. Between repeated invitations to the toilets, insisting on dancing, pressing against me to kiss me, I’m in a state - not seriously tempted by her, but responding physically to all the pheromones in the air, and the thought of what you’ll do to me. Fuck, this is getting out of control - I want to be at your mercy - right now. For the rest of the night.

I go to visit our parents’ table for a breather, which is certainly an indication of how intense things are getting for me...

As I approach the table, I hear someone laughing boisterously. He’s holding court with a group of adults, talking a mile a minute. When I hear _that voice,_ my pace slows.

What the bloody hell-?

My _father?!_

He’s red-faced and flushed, and when he sees me, he waves me over.

“Have you met my son and heir, the future Lord Moran?” he says loudly, then shakes his finger at me. “Only when I’m dead, of course... a lot to live up to, my boy!”

I stare at him in shock, and look at my mother. She’s giggling away with her new friends, looking rather tipsy herself. She shrugs at me with a wry smile, like ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care’.

I grin back at her. Alright, then...

“Sir Clement!” my father shouts. “How _won_ derful that our children are so happy together. Isn’t young love a mag _nifi_ cent thing? By George, it’s something to celebrate! More champagne!” he demands, waving wildly at a server who bows his head and walks away.

I sit at the table, watching in amazement. Even when he drinks, he’s not like this - he just gets more blustery and full of himself. What in god’s name is going on?

Suddenly someone lands on my lap.

“What-“ I start, and Victoria smiles and puts her hands around my neck.

“Looks like everybody’s in a partying mood,” she says, her eyes fixed on mine. “Are you in the mood to party, Sebastian Moran?” She presses her lips to my cheek. And her hand against my cock, hidden by her body.

I stiffen, and put my arm around her - appearing affectionate but tightening at her waist. Her hand then tightens around my cock, making me gasp and harden against my will.

“Victoria, dearest... not in front of our fucking parents, my sweet angel,” I sing softly into her ear with a glare.

“Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much,” she says smugly, and hugs me to cover up stroking me up and down once firmly. “You’re hard...”

I grasp her hand to stop it. “I’m seventeen. And there’s a girl brazenly touching my cock,” I say drily.

“Well, I played the lady and you weren’t interested,” she says with a pout. “Now tell me - how I can get you to forget your bit of rough? What do you want to do with me, hmm?” she whispers. “Give yourself the night off, at least...”

“Played the lady?” I chuckle, despite myself. “Needs some work, I think...” I grab her by the hips, and lift her up. Then I cross my legs to cover up my semi-erect state.

She stares at me indignantly and her eyes flash with anger - and for a moment, I fear she’s actually going expose our ruse then and there.

“Victoria. I can’t be with you again,” I say quietly. “What I have isn’t just some infatuation... it’s real. It’s - _everything_...”

The anger in her eyes fades. She gazes at me for a long time, her face a neutral mask. “True love, is it?” she says wryly. “You daft thing... Does such a thing even exist for people like us?”

“It really does,” I sigh, your face forming in my mind.

Her eyes look into mine searchingly. “And what’s that like, then?” she asks, seeming intrigued despite her best efforts. “Like a fucking sonnet,” I grin. “Don’t laugh! I’m _not joking._ Actually, no - it’s an entire _fucking book_ of sonnets, each one more beautiful than the last...”

“Lord,” she laughs, shaking her head. “You’re done for. A lost cause. Why am I wasting my time with you?”

“Because I’m the hottest guy in the room,” I say with a shrug, and drain a glass of wine from the table.

“Well, the hottest guy in the room is missing out on shagging the hottest girl in Dublin... which makes him a fecking fool in my book...” she tosses her hair, but smiles at me with amusement.

“So you’ll keep our secret?” I say to her, my brow furrowing.

“Live in fear of falling out of my good graces, Sebastian,” she sighs. “I’m off to get lucky with a less foolish boy.“ She walks away, hips swaying. And of course I stare at her arse, just as she meant me to.

“Enjoy seeing your friends, sweetheart,” I call after her sarcastically. “I’ll be right here...”

I look over at my parents’ table where I’m treated to the very bizarre sight of my father dancing wildly by himself and then falling on his arse. I laugh in shock. Mum sighs, catches my eye, and gestures at me to help him up.

I groan, and get up to assist my father who’s staring at an empty chair and rubbing its leg in a daze.

My head tilts and I study him for a moment before moving in to put my arm around his shoulders. “Up you go, Father,” I say politely.

“I’m perfectly fine here,” he says dreamily. “Feel this chair...”

Jesus... did he _take_ something??

“I don’t need to feel the chair,” I tell him patiently. “But let’s get you up, now...”

“You’re wrong. You _do_ need to feel the chair - to appreciate this amazing craftsmanship. Some gifted artisan made this chair for you to sit on... and you don’t even care?” he asked, his eyes shining with earnestness.

“Oh, I care,” I assure him, stifling a massive eye-roll. I glance at Victoria walking out of the ballroom with one of her male friends following behind her. She looks back and sticks her tongue out at me.

“I don’t think you _do_ care,” he says, shaking his head sorrowfully.

Jesus... he's definitely on something. There's no way this is just the effect of alcohol...

“I care - _so much_...” I say, pressing my free hand to my chest. “You know what I think? I think the very best way to appreciate the gifted artisan is to sit your arse down on his chair...” I say firmly.

He stares at me for a moment. “It would be like... the chair is fulfilling its destiny,” he says confidently.

“Christ...” I mumble, then clear my throat. “With Christ’s blessing, yes! Time for the chair to fulfil its bloody destiny...” I haul him up, and he points his finger at me.

“A noble destiny indeed to have a _lord_ sit on it,” he announces.

“Yes! A noble posterior sitting on you is a noble destiny indeed!” I declare, and push him onto it. Jesus, I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to deal with my father being high as a kite...

“Stay on your chair so nobody takes it,” I say to him firmly, and his hands quickly grasp the seat. Then I go off to the bar. I give my order and look back to see him grabbing some perplexed gentleman’s hand, and apparently insisting that he touch the back of the chair.

I put my head down on the bar and laugh uproariously.

_When I wake again, it's ten._

_I have no idea when you'll be here... it could be hours. I hate waiting..._

_I try to concentrate on a book, but keep looking at the clock, thinking of you, thinking of what you're up to, hoping that I didn't get you in trouble - probably not, but - if I did, I'm a bloody idiot - I just wanted to make you laugh..._

_I clean the bathroom and hoover the bedroom, have a shower. It's half past ten._

_God..._

I return to the table and watch in stunned amusement as Daddy Dearest makes a right ass of himself - speaking a mile a minute to anyone who will listen about inane topics, and vacating his chair periodically to dance like a fool. I think Mum is secretly enjoying the spectacle because she doesn’t demand to know what’s wrong with him or insist that they leave. And thankfully everyone appears to be getting plastered so he’s not the only tosser in the room - just the biggest one.

So I just sit and enjoy it, too. My obligations to entertain Victoria seem to have been forgotten by everyone including Victoria. She does return to tell me about her sexual escapade with the son of an earl, and flirt outrageously - although she’s mostly keeping her hands to herself. Relatively speaking.

“Since when does your da take Ecstasy?” she asks in amazement as we watch him declare the utter adorableness of hedgehogs to everyone who’s listening.

“Since never,” I say, shaking my head but grinning wildly.

“Jaisus,” she says as Lord Moran starts pulling flowers from a centrepiece and throwing them up in the air.

I lean back in my chair, sniggering madly.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” she asks, amused.

“I don’t - have a video camera...” I reply, my shoulders shaking.

“I mean - shouldn’t he go home? He’s high as a fecking kite...” she giggles.

As the flowers rain down over him, he begins to sing Madonna’s _Like a Virgin_ \- I begin to slow clap, and Victoria shrieks with laughter.

“Sebastian,” I hear my mother’s voice call.

I look up from my laughter, and she gestures at me emphatically to come over.

“Show’s over,” I sigh, and get up. When I walk over to her, she grasps my shoulder.

“Sebastian, I don’t know _what’s_ happened to your father. But he seems to be having a strong reaction to whatever he had to drink. Perhaps it was a bad batch?” Her smile is somewhat tense, but also slightly drunk.

“I don’t know, Mum... seems like MDMA to me...” I say, trying to keep myself from laughing.

“Is that a tequila company? I heard there’s a _worm_ in the bottle and it can make you hallucinate... Can you imagine such a thing!” she sniffs.

“No, Mum - it’s a drug people take at parties - to dance all night...”

She looks at me in shock. “Sebastian Moran - don’t be ridiculous! As if your father would do such a thing... he thinks everyone who takes drugs should be thrown in jail, remember?”

“Oh, I know... me included, remember?” I roll my eyes.

“Sebastian, be serious. We need to get your father to the car before he gets worse... Lady Laura has kindly offered to stay the night, should I need any assistance. So you and Victoria needn’t change your plans...”

I brighten at this. “Oh! Victoria will be so happy to hear this...”

“Such a lovely girl,” my mother sighs as we walk over to my father, who is now singing into a champagne glass.

“Augustus,” Mum calls out. “It’s time to go...”

“No, I still have to sing Walk Like an Egyptian,” he declares, and strikes a pose like from the music video.

“You can walk like an Egyptian to the car, if you like,” I offer helpfully.

“Sebastian!” Mum admonishes.

He throws a rose at me and I catch it and put it behind my ear.

“Fine,” he sighs. “but you have to do it, too - or I won’t go.”

Mum looks mortified as he proceeds to walk away from the table like an utter prat, and I follow behind him, much to Victoria’s amusement.

When we get to the car, he grabs me by the lapels. “I forgot to take that beautiful chair that fulfilled its destiny!” he tells me sorrowfully.

“No problem, I’ll get it,” I tell him, pushing him into the back seat - then gesturing at Mum and her friend to get in the car and go. She kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you, dearest... enjoy the rest of your night! Oh and the plan is to leave on Tuesday. So you have three more nights with your lovely lady. Good night, Sebastian...”

My heart flips in my chest as I watch them drive away. Three. More. Nights. How am I going to do this...??

I look at my watch - only eleven-thirty? it feels like I’ve been away from you for an eternity already.

Suddenly it becomes Very Important to get to you before midnight so we have a full night together. I hurry back to the ballroom and find Victoria.

“You don’t mind if I go, right?” I say to her, taking out my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I pull out a cigarette and shove the pack in my pocket.

She crosses her arms. “Looks like it doesn’t matter if I do mind,” she says archly.

I pluck the rose from behind my ear and hand it to her, bowing gallantly. “If you’d be ever so kind as to release me, my lady...” I say, with a cigarette in between my lips.

She puts the rose behind her ear, then rolls her eyes. “Go on... fool for love. I’ll be leaving soon anyway with the earl’s son...”

“Nice work,” I grin, and kiss her hand. “Thanks, Victoria... I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Get out of here, you daft thing,” she says, and pushes me. But she looks pleased as she walks away.

And with that, I leave the ball, like fucking Cinderella rushing to get home by midnight... I jump into a cab, and the next thing I know, we’re pulling up to the street. I get out at the corner, and when I’m confident no one is around to see me, I slip to the back of the house and let myself in, my heart racing. I lock the door behind me, listening for sounds and hearing none. You are here, aren’t you?? My heart begins to pound, and I move quickly towards the staircase.

_I pace, try to read the book again, but it's impossible. I look at my gear - no. If I start taking smack whenever I miss you - I'll come out of that month like a complete mess._

_Twenty to eleven._

_How can time go so *slow*??_

_Can't sleep, can't read - heh, I sound like a classical teenager in love; but no one told me it was so *excruciating*..._

_Seventeen to eleven._

_If only I knew *when* you were coming, so I could count down, or something... every noise I hear I perk up, but it's a car, or the wind..._

_Sixteen to eleven._

_I groan, put my head in my hands. *How* do I get through this?_

_I start trying to solve the Diophantine equation in my head, but lose interest in the numbers after less than two minutes._

_Sebastian... how am I ever going to survive a *month*?_

_Then the bad thoughts come._

_No - fuck off -_

_What if Sebastian got the blame for my little prank? What if his dad's in the hospital? What if he's under house arrest for the rest of his stay? What if Victoria is determined to get her claws into him after all? What if... what if... *what if*..._

_The problem with a genius mind is that it's fucking *brilliant* at what if..._

_I've died a thousand deaths when I suddenly hear footsteps. A door opening. Softly shutting._

_*Sebastian* -_

_I rush to the door, onto the landing -_

_\- *Sebastian* -_

_your golden head, your bouncing tread up the stairs, and there you are, in a penguin suit, beaming at me, and the sun breaks through and choirs of heavenly angels sing -_

_"Sebastian..."_

Then - I see you and a smile breaks out across my face.

I hear you call my name, and I’m running up the stairs towards you before I know it.

Before I reach the top, you jump down a step into my arms. I crush you against me.

“Jim-“ I breathe. I can’t speak another word, I just hold you on the top step, my face buried in your hair, breathing in your scent.

Finally I move my head back to kiss you. Our lips hungrily devour each other, and I sweep you up into my arms and head towards the bedroom.

“I missed you - so much,” I murmur against your mouth, and bump against the doorframe hard with my shoulder. “Ow... did I get you?”

_Sebastian - you're alright, you're here, you're back; you smell of - cigars and cologne and Victoria's perfume and expensive drink and *Sebastian*..._

_You carry me into the bedroom, bump both of us into the door frame - "Only a little - never mind," I say, because I want you in the bedroom, I want to see you in that room where I spent eternity, how ridiculous, like I couldn't wait a few hours for you, it seems so silly and trivial now -_

_"Fuck, I missed you - that was too long," I mutter as you put me down on the bed, sit next to me, embrace me, pull me down, kiss me again, and tonight melts away, there's no anxiety and impatience, just bliss._

“I’m sorry -“ I kiss you softly. “- I was away so long -“

_kiss_

“but I rushed over as soon as I could -“

_kiss_

“Because my parents left early -“

_kiss_

“It was the _weirdest thing_ \- it was as if -“

A strange feeling comes over me and I stop kissing you. “As if - someone - dosed my father...” I trail off.

Your eyes widen. “Dosed your father? With what?” There’s a sly little gleam I almost don’t catch... but how would you have done it?? My hand curls around your wrist, and a smile spreads slowly across my face. “Jim? Did _you??“_

_I can't pretend - not with *you* -_

_"I - just wanted to make your night less boring..."_

“You could say it was less boring...” I stay stunned, then throw my head back and laugh uproariously. “You little shit... I can’t believe you did that! I thought maybe he’d made an enemy, which is certainly likely... but those sorts of people would never think of something like _that_...” I bury my face in your neck, sniggering. “God... you should have seen him! How he was dancing l-like an utter prat.. and waxing poetic about hedgehogs... and the noble d-destiny of chairs,” I howl with laughter. “He k-kept making people touch his bloody chair...” I choke out, tears streaming down my face.

_Oh thank fuck - I was so worried - all the ways this could have backfired - I was kicking myself -_

_But I wanted to make you laugh, and I certainly managed that - and get some revenge on Lord Arsegustus Moran..._

_"Oh, do tell me all..." I smile; and you tell the story, including some *marvellous* impressions of your dad that make us both howl with laughter._

_"Enough - I'm peeing my pants - " I plead, doubled over on the bed._

_"No," you protest, "I still have to sing Walk Like an Egyptian..."_

“Oh god,” you giggle helplessly as I jump up onto the bed and strike a pose like in the music video. “He _didn’t_ -“

“He _did_. And then _I_ did - it was the only way to get him to agree to go to the car. We ‘walked like an Egyptian’ all the way from the ballroom. And you haven’t truly heard this song if you haven’t heard it sung by a drugged-out aristocrat who has no fucking clue what the lyrics are...”

I start to walk across the bed, with my arms in full hieroglyph mode.

_“Found some bizarre men in a tomb, they’re in a sand dune don’t you know!_

_But they moved too quick, oh-h- no no - and then they played some dominos._

_And the buzzard men - oh wayyy oh - they sing and dance, don’t you know!_

_And the crocodiles- oh nooo no - they snapped up all the cigarettes-_

_Oh the girls with their hookah pipes say Day-o, oh no no noooo-_

_Walk like an Egyptiannn- no!”_

With a dazed and pompous smile, I jump and switch arms, leaving you in hysterics.

_I've fallen off the bed and I can't breathe - oh god - oh god I've never seen your dad but you are a great actor, I can totally see a pompous git on drugs... oh *god*..._

_"Seb - stop - I can't - *breathe*-" I gasp, and I really *am* going to pee my pants if you don't stop..._

“Aww... but then you won’t hear about the bombed waitress in a Cadillac! Or the stoned kids in a metal bed, or the cops spinning cocoons down the block...”

You cover your face, wheezing with laughter. _“They’re walking like annn Egyptiannn... don’t you know!”_ I sing, and then drop to the floor, grabbing you and pulling you onto my chest as you giggle madly.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop...” I chuckle. “I thought the night would be abysmal, and you made it _so entertaining_. Thank you...” I whisper and kiss your lips.

_"I'm so glad," I croak, gasping for breath. Perfect plan, Jimmy - I wanted to make you laugh, and it looks like I did - myself as well. It's worth anything to see you smile like that..._

_"God, I can't believe he had such a strong response... must compliment Bennie on the quality of his gear. I do hope no one will get into trouble for it... but the waiter said it was only a summer job for him anyway."_

I raise my finger in the air, and look down my nose at you. “Ah, but you underestimate how much they’ll both need to be in denial about what happened. He was acting inappropriately? Don’t be absurd. Clearly _everybody else_ was inebriated beyond reason. This is all you can expect when you leave English high society, after all...” I roll my eyes, and smile wryly. “Yes, it’s that bad. Always someone else’s fault, even if the reason is nonsensical - but better to deny anything happened in the first place, if you can...”

_I listen, nodding - it makes sense, in a buffoon-headed way. Deny everything until people start doubting the evidence of their own eyes. And - well, there's always a very strong push in the upper echelons to not expose any member to criticism, regardless of what they do. I mean, what's a drop of ecstasy among people who got away with nearly genociding the whole of Ireland?_

_Though they had their bad points too..._

_I grin._

_"I'm glad. I thought it wouldn't cause any trouble, but then when I was waiting for you I started picturing all these worst-case scenarios..."_

“Well... worst-case scenario would have been if he ended up in the hospital. Or worse. But only because it would interfere with our evening.” I grin. “I mean it - I don’t give a shit what happens to him. I care about Mum; I know she’d be upset... but honestly, she’d be better off without him anyway,” I grumble. “Anyway, enough about that. I’m here - and earlier than expected, thanks to a certain miscreant...”

I kiss you again. Then I look past you, chuckling. “Oh dear, we appear to have ended up on the floor...”

_"I was incapable of remaining aloft, I'm afraid - and the bed proved *such* a great stage for the Sebangles, I don't regret it."_

_I pull myself up by the side of the bed. "Can I get you anything? Beer? Whiskey? I'm afraid we're all out of ecstasy, we had a big order from the Conrad..."_

I sigh. “Who needs synthetic ecstasy when I have you? But I wouldn’t say no to whisky...”

You nod, and head for the makeshift bar you’ve set up on the chest of drawers.

“Sebangles?” I ask, sniggering. “My novelty act has a name, at last...”

_"Oh god you're going to be the hit of the season," I snigger as I get you a glass and pour some whiskey into it. We're getting through the Fitzsimonses' Knappogue Castle, but there's some other ones downstairs as well. I pour myself a rum and coke._

_"Cheers. To Sebangles' first gig - a roaring success that brought the house down," I say, raising my glass._

I raise my glass and tap it against yours with a _clink_. “Much more successful than Sebanarama, my drag act,” I say with a wink. I throw some whisky back and sigh with pleasure. “The Fitzsimonses are truly fine hosts... I’m sure they’d be thrilled that we’re enjoying the fuck out of their hospitality...”

_"I'm sure they'd be more than thrilled to be hosting such a noble gentleman as yourself..." I smile, nodding at your getup. "Is that your family crest?" I point at the cufflinks._

“Oh- yeah,” I shake my head. “Pompous, I know. I keep thinking I should buy new ones, and then - I can’t be arsed. I don’t particularly want to be wearing cufflinks as it is...”

_Is it bad that I'm drooling over your outfit? It's gorgeous, the cut, the cloth, fitting you perfectly - probably tailored specifically for this ball... I'm not going to ask about all of it though, you're clearly not very comfortable with it._

_"So - tell me about the rest. Apart from the highlight of your dad, I mean. Did Victoria behave herself? Is she seeing Stu tonight?"_

“Oh, no- she hooked up with someone at the ball... a son of an earl, I think. She said she was going home with him. Hopefully Stu won’t be _too_ broken up about it...” I snigger.

“And - she behaved?” you prompt.

Oh _shit_... I take a sip of my whisky. “Mmm...” I say, as noncommittally as possible.

 _“Sebastian,”_ you say sharply.

I groan. “No... but I didn’t do anything! I kept at her at bay until she got frustrated and she found someone else!”

_You sweetheart - you were panicking all night, weren't you? Thinking I'd punish you every time she touched you? I'm such an *effective* tyrant._

_I smile - I feel like a serpent, dripping poison and honey..._

_"Good Tiger... defending my property..."_

_I stroke your jaw and you shiver slightly._

_But -_

_"This son of an earl - that's not going to get back to your parents though, is it? They're going to wonder where you were... though maybe you could be having a threesome; they know about your lascivious proclivities...”_

God, that look on your face... when you look at me this way I would do anything you want. And you know it...

Your touch on my skin claims me, makes me melt...

I struggle for a moment to focus on your words. “Nno, I don’t think so. She wasn’t obvious about it, she just told me she’d be going off with him. It’s not like she wants to deal with her parents questioning her. With everything that happened I don’t think my parents will be thinking about me. And her parents must be used to her staying out late by now. Or maybe she sneaks out, I have no idea...”

_"Alright. So... why don't you get a bit more comfortable. Take off those cufflinks, that jacket, the bow tie... maybe your shoes._

_And then tell me about your evening... everything you thought about... dreamed of... feared."_

Oh god... _this_...

I groan again. “What do you think I feared? She was handsy as hell... and I was focused on deflecting her moves without making her angry. And every time she touched me, all I could think about was what _you_ would do to me...” I swallow hard, remove my cufflinks, and toss them onto the bedside table with a metallic _thunk_.

“And then... I would get so excited at the thought, I had to stop to keep from getting carried away...”

Slowly I start to remove my jacket, already feeling naked before your eyes...

_Oh my poor tortured darling._

_"You weren't *tempted*, were you, Sebastian?"_

I grow still, my arms still half in the jacket sleeves. “Not _tempted_ , no...” I say, my throat tightening. Quickly, I shuck off the jacket and throw it on the chair.

“ _Tiger_ ,” you say, warning in your voice.

I nearly whine when I hear it.

Oh god...

I shiver at the glint in your eyes. “For a _second_ -“ I mumble. “I saw an image in my mind - what I would have done in the past, before you. It was just - a chemical response in my brain, that’s all... but then immediately, I remembered you were planning to punish me for this evening. I imagined that you were there instead -“ My eyes close briefly. “And... it was _so much hotter_...”

_Somehow I don't have my usual jealous impulses tonight - is it because you have *so clearly* been frantically trying to avoid Victoria's attentions? And because of how *desperately* you are sweating? It's a good thing you're taking off clothes..._

_Let's tighten the thumbscrews just a *little* more..._

_"What image was that? What would you have done in the past, that distant past of oh, a week ago?"_

I feel my knees actually grow weak as you question me.

God, what if you don’t understand...?

“I saw -“ my voice comes out rusty, and I clear my throat. Suddenly I’m desperate to get this blasted bow tie from around my throat. I untie it, and throw it violently on the bed.

“I saw us in a cupboard - me pulling her dress up, bending her over, and shagging her -” I choke out. “Because that’s what I do. What I’ve always done. But it only took a second before you invaded the fantasy and took over -“ I swallow hard again. “Like you’ve superseded - _everything_...”

_"So was that just the once, Sebastian? No other belles at the ball?"_

As I kick off my shoes, I shake my head quickly. “I didn’t notice them... I just wanted to leave and come back to you... and...” I breathe, growing still. “... see what you’d do...”

_"Hmmm-hmm," I nod, as if considering._

_"So - when I 'invaded' your fantasy of Victoria in a cupboard... what did I do?"_

_Oh_... “Suddenly - you were there in the cupboard with me. Stripping me. Turning me around...” I lick my lips. “And fucking me - good and hard, until I was screaming your name...” I breathe.

_"Screaming my name, in a cupboard in the Conrad? I'm sure that would have gone down a treat... so I did what you did to Victoria, did I? Bend you over and fuck you?"_

I nod, staring at you. “Yeah... you just - took me. Like you owned me...”

_"*Like* I owned you?" I frown._

I blink. Oh, shit...

“ _Because_ you owned me...” I correct myself, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

_"Better..." I smile._

_"Anything else you thought about during the long, long night away from me? Things I might do? Things I might have you do?"_

“I thought -“ I take a deep breath. “You’d want to know everything she touched... and I wondered what you’d do... like - she tried to kiss me, and I turned my face. So her lips touched my lips and my cheek. How would you punish me for that? Slap my face?” I wonder, gazing at you in fascination. I can’t imagine opening up to anyone else like this...

_"I think that's an excellent rule to instigate," I nod. "Anyone but me touches you, that bit of you gets purified by fire... or at least will feel like it is."_

Even as I cringe inwardly, part of me lights up at your words. My body is practically vibrating at the thought of being at your mercy again...

I stand before you in my astronomically expensive shirt and waistcoat, trousers, and silk socks - feeling stripped bare by you... pinned motionless by your stare.

“Then I await your judgement, Sir. And your pleasure...” I say in a low voice.

_"I need more information, my sweet Tiger," I purr, preening at the 'Sir'. "What else has been touched? And what else did you think of?"_

Oh god... what was the list I was repeating to myself...?

“My cheek and my hair... hands... chest... arse... lap... cock... and as soon as she touched that I grabbed her hand to make her stop - and lifted her off my lap.”

I feel myself grow flushed under your intent gaze. Fuck - that didn’t sound good at all - how did she end up touching _so much?_ Does it sound like I was _encouraging_ her?? A prickle of perspiration sweeps over me.

“I know that sounds bad,” I say hoarsely. “I couldn’t just throw her off me without my parents realizing something was wrong - and I couldn’t tell her to sod off without risking her divulging the plan...”

“Of _course_ ,” you say archly. “And what did all this lovely touching make you think of, Sebastian?”

“That I was going to be black and blue by tomorrow...” I shiver. “Every touch was almost _terrifying_ because I knew I would have to tell you - and I didn’t know how you’d react. But then -“

“Then...?” you say in a silky voice.

“You were all I could think of. It was all fear and anticipation and excitement mixed up together. I thought of you whipping me red and raw until I screamed, and... I wanted it...” My voice is rough, breathy. “I wanted you to do it...”

_I swallow - oh *fuck* -_

_"Want*ed*?" I whisper._

_"Want -" you pant. "I want you to..."_

_Your eyes bore into mine, and the air between us is supercharged; I'm not sure if I can touch you or if that will cause both of us to explode, but I have to - have to..._

_I reach out, stroke your jaw, then slap your cheek. You gasp slightly, blink, look at me, and I slap the other one. And again, both. And a third time for luck._

Each blow is a shock. More painful than expected - my cheeks sting with the impact.

When you finally stop and regard me, my lips part and I lick them.

“Yours,” I whisper, feeling myself shiver with anticipation.

_An electric thrill rises through my body, starting in my groin, enveloping my stomach, my heart, my throat, my brain. I feel like I'm radiant, literally. I could wrestle a bear right now - I'm invincible, ten miles tall, floating on air._

_What was the next thing you said - oh yes - hair._

_*Hair!?* how the fuck do I punish *hair*?_

_I stroke it instead, looking into your eyes, large and dark, staring into mine._

_"You did well, Sebastian... the idea was to uphold the facade of you dating Victoria, and you did so. I'm not punishing you for anything you did wrong... but because I want it, and you want it. Eventually the world will realize that it can't touch what's mine... but the important thing is that *you* realize, and you do, and didn't forget it for a moment. My loyal Knight..."_

_I grab your hair (oh yeah! That works) and pull you close for a kiss. No breaking your lips this time - you managed to avoid that._

You don’t look angry - quite the contrary. You seem charged up by what’s building between us. I can’t stop shivering as your devouring gaze sweeps over me, as your hand caresses my hair so gently.

I feel weak with relief at your words. I did well. I passed the test. My King is pleased with me... and wants to take pleasure in me, the way we both crave.

I stifle a gasp as your fingers grasp my hair abruptly, and you yank me into a kiss.

God... yes... Jim, I think as I kiss you back hungrily.

_"I'm going to punish you harshly, my love," I say as we stop for air, "but I don't want you to suffer unduly. If it gets too much, you tell me, ok? And I'll stop, and give you a chance to catch your breath. We have all night..._

_And then I'm going to bend you over and take you, because I own you... how does that sound?"_

_I hardly need to ask. Your eyes are huge, your breaths shallow, and your trousers too tight._

“God, I want you to... all of it...” I say, feeling a trembling in my muscles. “Do what you will with me... my King...”

_"Very well," I nod to the man in clothes more expensive than I could ever dream of, "take off those clothes, then."_


	21. Sunday Morning

Gazing at you intently, I unbutton my waistcoat and pull it off. Next is my shirt, which I strip off and throw aside. When I yank my undershirt over my head, I’m left in my trousers. I lean down to pull off my socks, then throw them on the growing pile.

I stare at you as I unzip my trousers and peel them off over my hips, along with my pants. When I kick them off, I stand before you, the cool air against my bare skin - thrilling at this now familiar position of being naked and waiting for you to do as you desire.

Your eyes are glowing as they rake over me. I feel my skin begin to heat up, and l exhale slowly.

_I look down, briefly, and you get it, kneel down onto the carpet, still looking up at me._

_"So... the next thing you mentioned was your hands, wasn't it, Sebastian?"_

_You nod. "Yes... Sir." You swallow._

_"I went through the Fitzsimonses' broom cupboard today... you know what I found?"_

I think for a moment. Broom, dustpan, hoover... what else do people keep in broom closets? God, you’ll think me so spoiled...

“I’ve no idea, Sir...” I say looking up at you fervently.

_"I'll show you."_

_I head to the wardrobe, open it, take out a bamboo cane. "They had a whole bundle of these - I've seen them in the garden; they tie plants to them - foliage bondage, kinky bastards."_

“Huh...” I say, appraising the cane. I imagine you swinging it down hard on my bare flesh and suppress a shiver. “Have you considered that will hurt more than a belt, Sir?” I say, a sly smile playing on my lips.

_"I have." *Deliciously more...*_

_"I want to use this on your arse, definitely... and I was going to lash your hands with it." I take your right hand, press a kiss in the palm. "But if you prefer the belt on your hands, that's fine... you'll just get a few more lashes."_

“I-“ Finding myself nearly dazed by the choice, I shake my head. “I want you to choose. Whatever _you_ prefer...”

_"I want to make you hurt, Sebastian... even though I love you. *Because* I love you._

_So - cane it is. Brave Tiger..."_

_I raise the cane._

_"Hold out your hands, my love."_

This is really going to hurt... But I couldn’t bear taking the easier choice if it’s what you desire.

I look at you steadily and hold out my hands. Then I exhale deeply.

When the cane comes down, I gasp - I had the best intention to remain stoic, but I couldn’t help it -

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “That was – _fuck_ -“

I flex my hands, wincing. Then I hold them out again.

_You sitting there, ready to take my pain, your beautiful eyes gleaming -_

_\- I’m spellbound, enchanted, entranced - *high* -_

_I raise the cane again, bring it down again. Tears spring into your eyes. I've made you cry - and you're sitting there, and taking it - because I want it..._

_You put out your hands, again, with barely a shiver. Another lash. A small groan, fingers closing on palms, a few gasps._

_And you hold them out again._

_My beautiful, wonderful Sebastian. Willing to endure as much pain as I wish to dole out._

_I put the cane down, reach for your hands, look at the red angry lines standing out in your palms._

_"Beautiful... my beautiful brave Knight." I kiss both your palms again, lick the lines, blow on them to cool them down._

Amidst the stinging angry pain, I feel myself glowing at your enraptured expression. Your words are like honey singing in my veins... your touch is like balm to my skin... I watch you with fascination as you lavish attention on my hands.

God - if this is all it takes to be swept up in your desire...

and it’s something that gives me pleasure too...

We’re so fortunate to have found each other...

I breathe in and out steadily, and wait for what will follow.

_You are in this as deeply as I am, looking at me with desire and delight, keen to see what I will do next, ready to respond to my every whim._

_"Chest, you said? Hmmm, interesting place..." I stroke the faint stripes that still mark your chest from the last time I whipped you there. So much lust, so little Sebastian..._

_"Again, I went out of my way to find something interesting. In fact, I was creative, and made something specially for you," I smile. "Want to have a guess?"_

I think for a moment. What could you have made for me?

“Did you fashion a whip out of something?” I guess.

_"Better than that. A birching rod," I beam, like I'm giving you a great present. Well. It looks very impressive._

_I take it out of the wardrobe, show you the bundle of fresh birch twigs, stroke your chest with it._

“Oh my,” I say with a smile. “All for me?”

“All for you,” you confirm, continuing to drag the twigs over my chest.

Mmm. Feels nice, but I know it’s going to get painful very soon.

“Where did you find birch trees?” I grin.

_"Birch Avenue," I grin. You look nonplussed - of course, why would you know every street name in Dublin._

_"Nah, I went to the park up the road. Plenty of friendly birches who were keen to have a chance to sting an Englishman..."_

_Now, I've never done this before, but I did practice a bit in the park. It's going to be messy... but should be effective._

_I raise the bundle over my head, and whip it down, with medium force, onto your pecs._

You raise the branches and I brace myself. As they make impact with my skin, I yelp in surprise.

It’s amazing how different it feels depending on what you’re lashing me with...

The branches come down again on the other side of my chest, stinking me sharply and making me suck in my breath.

“God...” I groan. “Not as bad as the cane, but... still _fucking hurts_...”

_“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” I ask sweetly. “Now don’t move those hands in the way, or I’ll lash them too, and then tie them behind your back.”_

_Fascinated, I move down your chest. Every time I bring the birch down bits of it jump off, and it leaves lovely thin angry red lines. You shudder on impact and grunt as I hit your nipples, but stay otherwise admirably still._

My breathing grows more pronounced as you lash my chest thoroughly. By the time you’ve moved down my chest, my head has fallen back slightly and my eyes are closed.

At the pause, my eyes half open and I gaze at you.

“Oh...well, then...” I say breathily. “That was bracing, Sir...”

_"Bracing?" I chuckle. "You make it sound like a spa treatment. Not excruciating enough? Well, let's see what happens when I treat your lap, shall we? Stand up, Tiger..."_

_You get up, and bits of birch fall to the floor. I'll have to hoover tomorrow._

_"Best keep Little Seb perkily facing up; don't want him to get caught..." I muse, then strike the front of your thighs with the birch._

I groan loudly at the first strike. My breath comes more quickly and shallow as you strike me over and over. My face scrunches up with the stinging, relentless pain. A couple of times cries escape my lips, despite my best efforts at silence.

“Oh Jesus...” I pant, trying to catch my breath. I look down at my erect cock and then back at you. “Definitely, definitely not a spa treatment...” I say with a lopsided grin.

_"You reckon? I think it would sell... apparently they do it at the sauna in Finland. Though probably slightly gentler..." I muse, as I lash my way back from your knees to the tops of your thighs. You are definitely gasping now..._

_I put down the birch twigs, look at your legs and chest up close. Definitely something worth repeating... your skin has a myriad thin sore red weals; a bit of twig sticking to your skin here and there. I brush you off, then lick my way up your thighs, tasting the birch sap, feeling the tiny ridges._

_"Now... your arse and your cock, didn't you say?"_

I blink at you, suddenly alert.

“Yes...” I say, watching you closely. “Just - just for a second...”

_"A second... a white dress, touched by a loaded paintbrush for just a second, is nonetheless soiled, isn't it, Sebastian?"_

_I look at your cock, which twitches slightly, not showing any sign of flagging._

_"But we'll start with your arse... I promised you you wouldn't be sitting down tomorrow, so I have something to live up to, don't I? I thought - maybe start with the belt, then use the birch, and finish it up with some good stripes of the cane - how does that sound?"_

All three?! I’m so fucked...

I groan softly. “It sounds excruciating, Sir... but... in your hands these instruments of torment are ever so stimulating...” I breathe. Eyes fixed on yours, I wait.

_"Kneel down over the bed, my love..." I say, and you do, turn round, get to your knees, lean over the bed, presenting your beautiful arse for me, your arms beside you, grasping the bedclothes in anticipation. A more beautiful sight man has never witnessed. I wish I were a sculptor, and could capture it in marble - but I'd be jealous of it, and keep it to myself, like I will do with the mental image..._

_I can't stop myself; I lean over you, kiss your shoulders, your neck, your mouth, your cheek, your ear._

_"I love you, Sebastian. I love you so very much... and I love you taking this pain for me, my beautiful, brave Knight..."_

_My hand slides down your arm, finds your hand, and our fingers intertwine, and for a moment we lie, my heart beating against your back, beating for you..._

Fuck... I _love_ being spread out for you... for your pleasure, for your pain...

For your love...

All of it.

Then suddenly your lips are all over me, and you’re telling me you love me, and it’s all I can do not to moan helplessly... god, Jim...

My Jim...

Your hand finds mine, and you rest against me. I hold my breath at the utter tenderness of the moment - knowing it will end in blood and howling and tears.

Then I take a breath and the moment morphs. You move off me, and get into position to deliver your pain. I look at my hand lying relaxed on the duvet. I hear you pick something up - _clink_. Belt.

My fingers twitch slightly in anticipation, and then I grasp the bedclothes.

_Your bottom is still quite blotchy and bruised. Poor Sebastian... I'm such a harsh master..._

_When we live together, it will be less intense, I suppose. Now we're jumping each other every chance we get, trying to cram a lifetime of missing each other into a week of feverish passion. But when you're there every day..._

_I still can't imagine wanting you any less. But it will happen. Probably._

_"I want you to lie still for me Sebastian... don't move that lovely arse out of my way, or put your hands on them, or I'll have to tie you to the bed. You're allowed to cry as much as you like, my darling... I know this is hard. And if it gets too much, tell me, yeah?"_

_You nod, your eyes close, and I lash the belt down across your arse._

I lie against the bed breathing and listening to your beautiful words. A brief respite before the pain returns...

Of course I wouldn’t move out of the way... not that I’m opposed to being tied to the bed, I think dreamily.

And - cry? I’ve got teary before, but it was a physical response.

I close my eyes, bracing myself. Just how hard are you planning to-

_lash -_

I inhale sharply, feeling the angry stinging sensation spread across my cheeks... and my cock getting even harder against the mattress. Oh god...

_don’t come, Moran..._

And it’s only the first lash, I think, feeling my entire body flush with heat and desire...

_Oh, you're loving this... I needn't have worried, maybe - but neither of us is very used to this, and I don't want to do anything bad to you. It would kill me..._

_I realize with a shock that that's true. Not literally, but - I would feel really extremely bad._

_So - am I not a psycho after all?_

_Just - very selective in my caring?_

_Anyway –_

_soul searching later. I have a very randy Tiger that needs taming..._

_I lash across your buttocks several more times, trying to cover them evenly._

I let out a low groan as the lashes with the belt rain down over my arse.

For a moment I feel dizzy at the thought of how much pain I may be in tomorrow - this is a _very_ thorough thrashing.

But then - pain never troubles me much. And every time I move, I’ll be reminded of youyouyou... I raise my arse higher, and my lips curl into a smile.

_You are really doing well with this. Your bottom is glowing, but you look like you're in heaven, and moving your arse up to welcome the belt - my luscious little masochist..._

_I lower the belt, chuck it onto the floor, move over to you, stroke your hot, hot cheeks._

_"Lovely warmup..." I purr. "Now, let's see how much life there is left in my birch, shall we?"_

_The birch rod looks sturdy enough to deliver a serious thrashing, and I can lash harder at your bottom than I did at your chest and thighs - but start carefully, Jimmy._

_I whip the rod down, slowly at first, then faster and harder._

As the birch rod is unleashed against my posterior, I find myself growing slowly, steadily overwhelmed - by the pain-pleasure-pain that just keeps increasing.

Pain, spreading like an electric force field over my skin, and through my flesh...

Pleasure, growing in alarming intensity and spilling out in breathy cries that don’t sound familiar. Surely that’s not me? Snarky surly Basher swaggering his way through life... defiantly imbibing drink, drugs, danger without blinking an eye... now reduced to a quivering, moaning mess? What have you done to me, Jim?

God... _don’t stop_...

_You're completely in lala-land, by the looks of it. You groan, and cry out, but they're panty, avid cries, that beg for more, more, more..._

_I move over, swipe the bits of birch from your buttocks. The skin is red hot and angry. If I hit much more, I risk breaking skin... and I think you'd let me._

_But I still have the cane to come... the left buttock has borne the brunt of the attack, as I strike with my left hand. A few strokes - and the weals will burst through, and blood will come out..._

_And I think we are ready for this._

_I put down what's left of the birch, reach for the cane._

There’s a pause and I take the opportunity to catch my breath, and check in with myself although it’s tricky as I’m feeling downright swoony. You said to tell you if it got to be too much... is it?

It seems a ridiculous question... Is there such a thing as too much? Yes.

Is this it? Hell, no.

What’s past the edge where we’ve already gone? I want to see. _I want to know_.

I hear a swish and a thump as the birch rod is dropped onto the bedside table.

Oh... Looks like we’re about to find out...

_"The cane, Sebastian..." I whisper, almost reverentially._

_Careful, now. Bamboo can splinter - let it fly and whip of its own accord, don't put too much pressure on it -_

_I aim, lift the cane over my head, and let it fly._

_I shiver at the impact._

I suck in my breath at the first impact of the cane on my arse which is already feeling like it’s glowing red...

oh Jesus...

The pain is blazing through my sore flesh...

I sense you raising the cane again, and I moan in anticipation.

_Twin white lines, quickly turning an angry red... so beautiful, and accompanied by your moaning, it's art. The world has ceased to exist; there is just you and me, in our blessed bubble of pain and love, and I raise the cane again and aim a little bit lower, and as I lash down I feel a tremble go through my entire body - it's pure magic we are working here..._

It begins to feel like a dance, a symphony of sound and movement...

a raised arm -

An intake of breath -

A cane slicing through the air -

The whip-hard slap of bamboo against flesh -

A simultaneous moan - morphing into a loud cry, and then a howl -

Repeat.

Again... again... again...

I don’t know when the tears started flowing...

Or the spasms of my body...

Or the panting sobs...

Oh god... so beautiful...

You are - so beyond beautiful...

_Lash - lash - lash -_

_A rite, a sacrament; we are lifted up, becoming what we never were, given a window on our true potential..._

_Your howls, your cries, evoked by my moves; the shivers through my body, my heart almost bursting out of its rib cage..._

_And that is it; I need you; I need to be inside you, *now*..._

_I throw the cane to the floor, get the lube, squirt some on my hand, start working you in, while the other hand softly touches the ridges on your bottom, the weals ending in blood, where I broke the skin, in several places... oh god I whipped you till you were bleeding, and further... and you just knelt there and took it, howling and crying your pain into the world, because I wanted it –_

_\- oh *fuck*..._

_I put on the condom, quick - I need you I need you oh *god* I need you –_

I blink as I feel wetness on my skin from the relentless torrent of lashes. You did it, didn’t you - made me bleed, and made me cry...

My cheeks are stinging with tears even as my stinging arse cheeks are dotted with blood.

I hear the cane thrown against the floor, and suddenly you’re lubing me up, preparing me expertly - even as you touch my skin with such tender possessiveness. As if it’s something precious more than treasure. As if I’m more precious to you than _anything_.

I whimper at the overwhelming blur of emotions and sensations - and the frighteningly intense flare of desire that takes hold of me as I hear the crinkle of the condom package, and then the latex being unrolled... and then I feel your cock pushing against me - and then pressing into me - fuck, just take me, _take me_ -

“ _God_ \- please -“ I groan. “Please, _fuck me_...”

_Yes, I must, I want to, I need to; it's unreasonable that I should be so far away from you, I must be inside you, meld with you as much as I can, my *Sebastian*, my love, my Knight, my Tiger, who *bled* for me -_

_I push as hard as I dare, and you push back, push your glowing hot arse against me as I slide inside you, and now it's my turn to groan as I buckle with pleasure -_

_"Oh - *FUCK* -"_

_I push further, my fingers digging into your hips –_

I gasp with unparalleled pleasure as you surge into me.

You’re groaning, thrusting into me as I rock back against you.

My muscles are already trembling... my cock is ready to burst with mounting desire as you slowly begin to pulse into me, nudging my sweet spot again and again.

Ohhhh... gaww-wwd... _yesss_...

“Fuck-“ I moan desperately, wanting you, wanting more of you, have me, take me all, please Jim - “More -“ I plead, not knowing what I’m asking for just please give it to me - “ _More_ -“ I whisper raggedly. You thrust deeply, and my body jerks with pleasure.

_'More' -_

_I'm snatched from where I'm soaring ten miles above the earth -_

_*More*_

_What do you mean? What do you want, need, that I'm not giving to you?_

_There isn't more of me - or - more pain? What is it you want, my Tiger; I will give you *anything* -_

_I thrust into you hard, and you jolt and moan *so* wonderfully, tensing your muscles against me -_

_was that it? Am I doing it right, my love? I want you to be swept away in ecstasy, like I am..._

_I dig my fingers into your ravaged arse as I lean over you and fuck you hard, and you seem to go incoherent - oh fuck yes –_

“Yesss... god,” I moan, shivering. No one ever gives it to me like this... no one gives me what I want deep down, more than anything - except you, my beautiful Jim, my King...

Yes, I want us to fuck like animals, shivering, trembling, howling...

this is what I’m made for, this is what I’m built for... whatever you have to give, I can take it -

I can take it -

Give it to me, _hard_ , yes -

Our bodies are slamming against the mattress; my cock feels nearly bruised by it...

“Oh god... I’m so close -“ I say in a strangled voice. “Oh god... Jim...”

_I'm lost in a frenzy of fucking, passion, fire, Sebastian - I couldn't stop now if you put a gun to my head -_

_"Sebastian - fuck - *Sebastian!* -"_

_I groan as I feel the full world contract into my balls, then *push* its way out in unbearable pleasure - oh *god*_

_I don't know *what* sounds I make as I'm shuddering and jerking my way through my orgasm, which *has* to be the most intense one *ever*, surely, oh god so *good* -_

We’re locked into a gorgeous mad maelstrom of fucking and panting and groaning, and then - as you shout my name and your body begins to shiver, I know it’s the glorious end. Your body spasms against me hard as you come, and I hear myself scream out your name, just like in my fantasy...

fuck -

Yes -

 _JIM_ –

_You are screaming my name, you are, oh god you're mine, I'm inside you, I'm fucking you and it's so good that you're shouting my name..._

_I'm arched back, my eyes are screwed shut, my fingers digging into your hips, riding this high for what feels like minutes before I slowly come down, shuddering and panting._

You collapse against me, your body damp and your muscles shaking. You press your lips against the back of my neck, and breathe my name into my skin.

“Jim,” I moan back helplessly, barely able to move. “God... Jim...”

_"Sebastian - my Sebastian, my love, my gorgeous Sebastian... mine..."_

_I'm babbling, feel you trembling beneath me - you must be so close..._

_Carefully I move off you, still shaky, reach underneath you, as you move back, feel your cock, rock hard. You moan as I take you in hand._

“Oh god,” I groan at the intensity of your hand on my cock. You stroke me once slowly and firmly, your eyes on mine. I fall back against the bed, sitting on the floor and gazing at you, hungrily, longingly - so overwhelmed, and so madly, stupidly in love, I feel incapable of forming words.

God... please...

_You're collapsing onto the floor, don't even seem to notice your bottom touching the ground, though it must hurt. But you're completely enchanted, your eyes are huge and ravenous, you're mouthing my name, but no sound comes out..._

_"Come for me Sebastian..." I whisper._

Dimly I become aware of the blazing pain of my chest, thighs, hands, arse - but it’s like experiencing it through a haze - lust, desire, bliss, unfathomable love... and then ecstasy, mounting higher and higher as you stroke me harder - and faster - and -

 _fuuuuck_ -

My head falls back and I cry out as a wave of fiery passion sweeps through me, consuming _everything_ , leaving me gasping, pleading, then roaring out my orgasm through the ceiling, through the roof - into the night sky, past the disapproving god who has forgotten me, and straight into the stars that make up the Milky Way and beyond...

And all I can think as I dissolve into the cosmos is JimJim _Jim_...

and you’re there waiting for me, like a beautiful dark matrix underpinning every atom, and all the space between and within...

“I love you – Sir -“ I hear a voice mutter from very far away. “My King... my Jim...”

_Wow. I'm still hazy from my own, but - that's *some* orgasm to witness. For a second, I think you've passed out - you're limp, breathing shallow, eyes closed, but then I hear your voice, so reverent, so full of love, it brings tears to my eyes._

_"I love you too, my Sebastian... my love... my Tiger," I reply, stroking your cheek. It's wet - oh my love -_

_I reach for the tissues on the bedside table, use one to wipe my hand, then take out another, softly wipe your cheeks, kiss them. Your eyes open, and the sun rises in the room. It's the dawn of my life; you shine, shine so deeply inside me..._

_We stare at each other, and my heart pounds against my ribs._

In my daze, I become aware of your hand on my cheek... then wiping them with a tissue. Why? Oh -

I open my eyes and my awe only grows as we gaze at each other - each of us staring wide-eyed like some mythical creature has appeared out of thin air. Which I suppose in a way is true - we could have been the two people least likely to fall in love ever, had we not crossed paths.

I touch my cheek. “You did make me cry...” I say in awe. “That never happens...”

You smile at me. “So I did...” you say softly.

“ _And_ I screamed your name. Just like my fantasy...” I pull you against the bed, and rest my head against your shoulder, sighing.

“Well, a bit bloodier than the fantasy,” I murmur with a faint grin.

_We sit like this for a few minutes, just enjoying the physical contact, the afterglow._

_Finally I pull you up, have you lie on the bed on your front, inspect your bottom. "I'm going to clean that, Sebbie... just lie there, I'll be right back." I head to the bathroom, and carefully clean the cuts with water and disinfectant, then put aloe vera cream on it, cover it with some gauze. You protest that it's not that big a deal, but your bottom is precious to me, and I will not risk its beauty getting marred._

_I roll you over and gently rub aloe vera cream into your chest and thighs, you looking blissed out._

As I lie on the bed and receive your loving ministrations, I smile dreamily. In this moment, I could die happy.

When you finish, I roll onto my side. “How are you feeling, Tiger?” you ask with concern.

“Well, I could lie and say that having you thoroughly thrash me and fuck me, then pay sweet attention to me and rub me with cream isn’t one of the most gorgeous experiences ever, but - where would that get me?” I give you a lop-sided grin. “God... I feel fucking sore, and better than I can remember feeling in my entire life.” I reach up with a still-stinging hand and stroke your face. “Thank you, my sweet King...”

_"Oh, your hands -" I pick the cream back up, rub it into your hands as well, despite you protesting that I'm making you sticky._

_"Would you like another drink? I'll get you some water - any crisps? I also got peanuts?"_

“Crisps would be great, thank you – and did I see ale?” I say, reaching up to caress your hair.

You go to fetch refreshments - and I’m left on the bed lying limply like I’ve run a marathon while beating beaten with sticks. And I couldn’t be happier.

When you return, I beam at you. “That took forever. C’mere...” I say, opening my arms.

_"Oh, I'm sorry the service isn't up to scratch," I grin. "It's not quite the Conrad; I do apologize..."_

_You grab me close and snuggle around me; complain about the clothes being in the way, and start to pull them off, then pull the blanket over us so I don't get cold. So thoughtful, my Sebbie..._

Burrowed under our blanket, we snack on crisps and drink ale, passing the bottle back and forth.

“This is so much better than a stupid ball...” I sigh and drink lustily from the bottle. “Strange that faerie tales never include scenes like this...” I say, wiping my mouth.

“Where one lover whips the other bloody and then fucks him in the arse until he screams?” you ask drily, digging out a crisp from the bag.

“Precisely.” I swipe it from your fingers and cram it into my mouth. “And then they eat crisps naked.”

You swat me, and pull out another crisp which I eye playfully.

_"I'm sure the old versions did include the blood and fucking. Not sure about the crisps - they were only invented in the early 19th century. Though there are plenty of urban legends of Tigers who nicked them and had terrible fates befall them..."_

“Such a tragedy...” I sigh. “And to think it could have been avoided if savage Kittens only learned to share - _ow_.” I complain, rubbing my arm. “Haven’t you had enough violence for one day, sweetheart?” I say, and capture your lips in a kiss.

_I am about to tell you exactly how much capacity for violence I have, but then you kiss me and that's not fair..._

_When the kiss ends we just sit and stare at each other again. I never knew just staring at someone could be so gratifying... Every little bit of your face already committed to memory, I nevertheless love going over the familiar lines and hues and facets again. The gleam in your eyes, the curve of your eyebrows, the lines in your forehead, next to your eyes..._

_I touch the scar next to your left eye, left by a glass. "Bar fight?" I ask._

I blink at you. “Good guess,” I say, nonplussed.

The corner of your mouth tugs into a half-smile.

“But... no. This was a gift from Lord Moran.”

Your smile quickly fades.

“Couple of years ago. Could have lost an eye. Didn’t.” I tip the bottle back and drain it.

You’re silent for a long moment. You look like you so badly want to ask me. Of course you do...

I sigh. “He was in a terrible mood from one of his precious deals going wrong. I was goading him. I wouldn’t stop. I was just so angry all the time after...” I swallow hard. “And - this was the result. He told Mum I fell while drinking, and I didn’t bother correcting him...”

Your eyes are gleaming dangerously, your hands tightening into fists.

I touch your arm. “It’s in the past,” I say gently. “My relationship with him died a long time ago... He’s nothing and no one. And a month from now, I’ll never see him again... “

_Your..._

_*Father?!*_

_A red haze rises inside me._

_He beats you up - bad enough - but - a *glass*!? Next to your *eye*!? Damn right you could have lost an eye! And *then* what would he have told your mam? Would he have made up some excuse - after fecking *maiming* you for life -_

_You touch my arm, and I feel how very tense I am. I take a conscious breath, try to relax. You are right. You will be shot of him in a month. And when we're good and ready; when you have your trust fund and we're both legal adults, we'll go and visit him..._

_*kill him*_

_and we will *not* kill him Jimmy; you can't kill everyone who hurts you or Sebastian; there would be no one left. You will just go there and hold hands and kiss in front of him and tell him how happy you are. He might well die of a heart attack on the spot..._

_"Fuck, Sebastian..." I shake my head. I don't say anything else._

“It’s ok, Jim. Well no, it’s not,” I say wryly. “But I don’t give a shit about him any more. He’s weak. He’s pathetic. And I look forward to never laying eyes on that poor excuse for a man ever again.”

Your mouth tightens, but you say nothing and stroke the skin next to my eye.

I smile at you reassuringly, and then spot a thin white scar on your side. “Now _this_ looks like it was made by a knife,” I say tightly, giving you a troubled look. “And you say I don’t need to worry about you??”

_"It's ages ago -" I dismiss, but that makes you frown even more._

_"It wasn't here. It was in the kids' home. A sharpened spoon. Don't worry, I got him."_

“You ‘got’ him?” I echo.

You stare at me silently and arch an eyebrow. I guess I really don’t need to know...

“Alright... I know you can take care of yourself,” I say, uneasily. “Just - please. Be extra careful. For me. You know I’m going to be fretting the entire time I’m away...”

_I killed him, Sebastian; with my bare hands - well, teeth - but then you don't want to hear that from your precious boyfriend. Just think I beat him up, OK? Or stabbed him back with his own spoon._

_But then you're so sweet I'm melting and smiling._

_"I will, Sebbie. You can give me some money, if you want - I'll be so very careful. And when you're close to coming back, I'll cut the smack, so I'll be clean when you're back. I'll also look round for cheap flats - we may have to stay in a squat for a bit, but I'll try to find one without junkies. I'll be fine, I promise..."_

_I snuggle into your arm, smell your neck. I have got so addicted to that smell..._

I sigh with relief. Oh thank Christ you’ll let me give you money... if you’re not working the streets and shooting up, I’ll have so much less to worry about...

“I don’t care where we stay,” I assure you as you press your face into my neck. “I just want you to be safe while I’m gone, and then - we’ll be together again, and we can start a new life. And I for one can’t wait...” I draw you closer and kiss your hair.

_"God, me neither..." I sigh, softening in your arms. A month. It's an incredibly long time, but it will pass._

_Suddenly a thought comes to me. Your cock! I was supposed to punish all bits of you that Victoria touched –_

_damn. Well - I couldn't have, really - there was no way I could not have fucked you right there and then -_

_I reach down, find a sleepy Little Seb, who does an alert little jump when I grab him - like a cat startled awake, I think with a smile._

_"I haven't forgotten about him, don't worry..." I smile at you. "He'll get his punishment in the morning..."_

I jump as one moment you’re drowsy and affectionate, and the next - grabbing my cock and promising punishment.

I groan, feeling my cock twitching in your hand. “I was kind of hoping you forgot about that... or decided to go easy on me?” I smile hopefully.

_"Hoping? Or fearing?" I ask._

“I think it depends what you do...” I mumble, my eyes half closing as you stroke me gently.

_"I think it's up to me to decide what I do..." I purr._

“Oh... I know...” I murmur. “But punishing my cock could be very painful... or...” I breathe in dreamily at the sensation of your hand, and close my eyes.

_"You'll have to wait and see, won't you? Don't worry - I will still want to use it before you leave..."_

_I see a look in your eye._

_"Oh - did they tell you?"_

Fuck. I completely forgot...

“Yes...” I sigh, my heart sinking.

Your eyes widen.

“We’re leaving Tuesday. So just two more nights together after this...” I say miserably.

_*Tuesday*..._

_Saturday night, Sunday night, Monday night. After four nights together; two nights of meeting up, and one night foolishly squandered._

_Three nights. One of which is half over._

_Tuesday. So close._

_I swallow. We knew it was coming._

_"It seems - so soon. But - we knew..." I rub my forehead._

_"You'll have to give me your number. I will make collect calls, if that's alright? Then it won't cost me money. You'll have to make sure you pick up though - I don't want to have to explain to your mum why Victoria would make a collect call and why she suddenly sounds like a boy..."_

“Of course...” I soothe. “If you can tell me approximately when in the day you’ll call next, I’ll be sure to be right by the phone.”

God - Sebastian Moran hovering by the phone waiting for his love interest to call - collect. No one who knows me would believe it - or they’d think I’d gone fully mad. Fuck it. I’d rather be mad with you then sane with anyone else.

“God...” I groan. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself for a _month_...”

_"Don't..." I groan. "I can't imagine what life was like before I met you... it all seems so - unreal, so - one-dimensional. Not proper 'life' at all..."_

_I snuggle up to you. "I'll just - go through the motions, counting the days till I can next call you. But - it will be so worth it... we will be together, forever," I whisper, interlacing the fingers of our hands, stroking your palm with my thumb. "And you won't need to worry about your mam... a month is a small price to pay."_

I take your hand, still holding mine, and kiss it. I feel so fortunate to have found you, and that you understand why I need to leave before we can be together - for good.

“Thank you for understanding,” I say to you, touching your face. “Forever can’t start soon enough...”

_I get out of bed, shoot up, move back into your warm loving arms._

_You switch off the lights and we are alone in our small corner of the night; this little niche we have created for ourselves, the start of our lives._

_Just one month..._

I don’t remember falling asleep... I wake up a few times feeling like I need to check on something and then breathing a sigh of contentment and relief when I find you in my arms. I don’t even want to think about what it will be like to sleep in London... in my bed, house, and life, all cold and empty without you...

I manage to fall back asleep amidst these troubling thoughts - and when I wake up to a bedroom with light pouring in along the edges of the blinds, I realize it’s morning and - something else is troubling. I groan with surprise at the stiffness and aching pain that befalls me when I try to move. And I appear to be stuck to the sheets for some reason... ah. Yes. There was the little matter of you thrashing me until I bled, I remember as a smug smile plays on my lips. Fuck, that was hot...

I pull myself free of the sheets, inhaling sharply. Well, this was a first... but I daresay not the last, I think as I gaze at your dark elfin beauty.

_Stiffening Tiger... hissing Tiger?_

_"You right Tiger?"_

_I open my eyes, raise up partly - oh yes... your chest is a crisscross work of thin weals._

_"I'll live," you grin, gingerly touching your bottom. I kneel up, lean over you - oh. The gauze has come off during the night, and some blood got on the sheets - whoops. Sorry Fitzsimonses._

_I climb over you, kiss the scrape - closed now._

_"My poor Tiger... you look like you've been the recipient of some *serious* discipline..."_

As I feel your territorial examination and your lips on my bottom, it’s as if a sun has burst within me, making the world wonderful and bright.

“Mmm. Poor me,” I say cheerfully. “But I clearly had it coming.” I beam at you.

_"Indeed... and I believe in my endless generosity I let you off your final punishment, didn't I?" I grin._

My mind goes blank for an instant.

Oh shit...

“Ehm... I vaguely remember something about that...” I scratch my hair, pretending to think. “And here I thought I was so charming, you’d have forgotten by morning,” I chuckle.

God... what am I in for now??

_"I nearly did, but he didn't," I nod at Little Seb, standing proud. You scowl at him like he's a foul traitor, which makes me chuckle._

_"Don't worry Sebbie... I plan to use him a *lot* in the coming few days -" *only two!!* "- so he has nothing to fear from me... just a gentle reminder of who he belongs to."_

I laugh nervously. “Oh well then... remind away! Not that he’s not well aware... and well in hand,” I sigh, feeling your fingers skimming the length of my cock.

_"Lie back, my love..." I say, and you move onto your back. I grab my t-shirt from the floor, lay it over your eyes. You're a bit tense, but Little Seb shows no fear - you love me, don't you, my friend?_

_I get what's left of the birch, pull one single thin twig out, lash it onto my hand - stingy, but not painful. Perfect._

_I take careful aim, lash at the bottom of your shaft._

I strain to hear what you're doing... was that the birch??

Are you messing with me? Surely you're not going to -

_lash_

I let out a strangled cry - partly from the sharp pain on my _very_ sensitive beloved bit of flesh - partly from the shock that you really did it.

"Oh god," I gasp. "Fuck, Jim..."

_I look at you, scrutinizing - too much?_

_No - you're panting, but not moving; and Little Seb is still looking happy. I take careful aim, lash slightly higher._

I yelp at the next lash, although less intensely than before. I'm trying to get my breath under control, and my mind to calm down from its heightened state of 'OhGodWhatTheFuckWhatTheFuck'.

Jim loves me, and he's not going to hurt me, I tell myself firmly. Well... not terribly.

Little Seb on the other hand is perky as hell - clearly enjoying the attention, and twitching for more.

You strange, incorrigible bastard, I think and brace myself for what comes next.

_My poor sweet Tiger... it's hard being mine, isn't it?_

_I keep lashing, very carefully aiming, so I don't hit too close to your head or your balls. After eight lashes I stop, move down, lick along your shaft._

I'm panting and gasping all the way through... I can't help it, and I've given up trying to be stoic. This is my cock we're talking about, my favourite part of me, hands down (hah)... now being lashed repeatedly with a strip of wood.

Sweet Jesus...

but little Seb is wildly curious and bouncing back quickly from becoming acquainted with the new order - where it seems anything could happen if I'm not careful... and even if I am.

And weird fucker that I am, I'm getting hornier with each lash.

A breathy groan escapes my lips when I feel your tongue. "Oh god... _god_ ," I whimper, helpless under your tongue and your dizzying, ever-growing power over me...

yes, Jim... more...

_There you go Tiger, that wasn't so bad, was it?_

_I move my mouth down, my tongue caressing the skin I just lashed, and you make the most gorgeous sounds..._

My hands move to your head, and my fingers weave through your hair. Not too tightly. Not controlling your movements. Just overcome with desire and wanting to show you...

My hips buck slightly, and I shiver at your tongue on my now-aching cock..

oh god... so good...

_Your hand - what do you think you-? No, just caressing, gently suggesting a rhythm, which I follow, making you buck, groan - that's it, Sebastian..._

"Fuck- Jim-" I groan, as shivers break out all over my skin and my muscles begin to tremble.

_Yes, Sebbie? Am I making you feel better than you ever have, Seb? Are you going to never want anyone but me, Seb?_

_You're getting near, so I'm pulling out all the stops - yes - yes that's it, nearly there -_

_I'm rewarded with a loud Tiger groan, a bucking body, and warm liquid squirting down my throat._

_Mine..._

I pant and gasp through my shuddering orgasm and after... struggling to catch my breath as you gather me up in your arms.

"That was - that -" I swallow hard, searching for words. "Wow..."

I grin, remove the t-shirt. "Not too harsh, this punishment?"

Thinking of the sensation, I shiver.

“Not if you think it’s warranted,” I grin and gaze dreamily into your eyes. “It was - _intense_. But intense can be...” I let out a long, slow breath. “Mmnh...”

_"You certainly seemed... stimulated," I smile._

_"As, I might add, I myself am..." I nod down._

“Oh! So you _are_...” I grasp your arms and push you back into the bed. I can’t believe I forgot about _your_ pleasure. Bad Tiger...

“And I know just the Tiger who would love to take care of that for you...” I purr, kissing my way down your neck... chest.. abdomen... pelvis... until I reach my prize.

“You enjoyed that, did you...” I say in a husky voice and slide my lips over your very hard cock.

_“Very much, yes... I do apologize. You’ve snared yourself a proper sadist for a boyfriend... but then you seem rather appreciative yourself...”_

I stop what I’m doing for a moment and look up. “You’re not sorry in the slightest,” I smirk. “And neither am I... Sir.” I say breathily against the head of your cock, before swirling my tongue around it. Then with a muffled moan I dive back onto it and begin to suck in earnest.

_You’re a genius at this; and I was already very turned on, so it doesn’t take long before my fingers grasp in your hair and my body is buckling underneath you._

_“Seb-*aaaahsh*tian -“_

Fuck, I love doing this for you... I’ve always enjoyed taking people to the height of pleasure, gasping and groaning in ecstasy. It’s hot as fuck, and I’m good at it. But with you - it’s not just about an orgasm. There’s gorgeous, heart-bursting love, and this mesmerizing dynamic between us where you dominate me, and I love it and you love it, and it’s the hottest thing ever and god how I love to service you and give you whatever you want... I honestly can’t get enough... and when it leaves you moaning and shaking and pulling my hair... god, Jim... there’s just nothing more sexy and beautiful to me.

I suck you even harder, and your body begins to spasm. Smiling around your cock, I begin to go faster...

_I come groaning, grasping the sheets, shuddering my pleasure into you._

_As I lie panting, you appear next to me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat._

_“Wow...” I say, wide-eyed._

‘Yeah... right there with you,” I agree, cuddling up against you. “Are you hungry yet? I should call Mum at some point to make sure she’s doing OK - after His Lordship’s stunning debut last night,” I snigger. “But the good news is, she’s well aware that I’ll want to spend all my time with ‘Victoria’ in the next couple of days. So barring a crisis, I’ll be able to spend the day with you,” I sigh, closing my eyes and kissing your hair.

_“There shall be no crisis... the King has forbidden it,” I say lazily. A whole Sunday together... though the Tuesday spectre looms threatening and large._

“Then his devoted Knight will make sure his decree will come to pass...” I say, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“Whatever shall we do with ourselves today? See a film? Go dancing? Nothing at all? Whatever you want...”

_"Ohhhh, dancing... we could check out that gay bar if you want? Only if you like. You may have had enough of dancing after your Egyptian moves last night..." I grin._

“Oh Jesus... that wasn’t a dream?” I cover my face with my hands, groaning. “Actually, anything that can block that from my memory would be a good thing.” I peek through my fingers and grin. “And I’d _love_ to go dancing with you again... especially somewhere I can actually snog you without inciting a punch-up...”

_"You won't be beaten up because you're gay - not sure about being English," I grin. "Nah, joking. They're a tolerant bunch, overall. And during the day - I don't know. Is there any bit of Dublin you'd like to see? Or a film could be nice - or the National Museum is quite good. They got archaeological finds from all over Ireland, or there's the Collins Barracks which got military history - or we could walk in the park - it looks like a nice day - or - whatever, really."_

_I can't believe the luxury of having a full day with you._

I’m blissing out on having all this glorious time with you... two whole days! I stretch deeply and luxuriously, fanning out my toes. “No idea. All sounds good! Decide after breakfast?” I nibble your neck delicately.

_"Might I recommend not making your usual 'Stuff Jim so full he won't be able to move for two hours' special?"_

“What?” I ask, feigning horror. “What is this ‘not stuffing Jim with breakfast’ madness?”

You shake your head at me, smiling.

“Fine,” I grumble. “Something light, then...”

_'Something light' in Sebastian Moran terms is apparently toast with eggs and bacon, sausages and tomatoes. "I left out the beans and hash browns!" you protest at my raised eyebrow._

_Obediently I eat two slices, two sausages, and a tomato, but then I have to admit defeat. As usual, you cajole me to eat some more and then help yourself to the leftovers._

_As I'm drinking my coffee, I feel a warm glow at us already having a breakfast routine. It's going to be different when we're working of course; a quick sandwich and a cup of coffee before rushing off with a peck on the cheek... I almost sigh with contentment._

Once again you head off to read in bed while I clean up, singing.

_Sunday morning brings the dawn in_

_It's just a restless feeling by my side_

_Early dawning, Sunday morning_

_It's just the wasted years so close behind_

_Watch out, the world's behind you_

_There's always someone around you who will call_

_It's nothing at all_

Strange to think this will be my life soon - although I know you’ll be cooking and cleaning, as well. But it’s nice to do this for you - you’ve had no one looking out for you for so long...

But that’s changed. Now you have me.

_Sunday morning and I'm falling_

_I've got a feeling I don't want to know_

_Early dawning, Sunday morning_

_It's all the streets you crossed not so long ago_

Humming, I go up the stairs - and once again throw myself at you in bed, making your book fall from your hand and making you yelp.

“Oh, I’ll make up for it somehow,” I beam. “Or you can take it out on my hide later...” Suggestively I rub my arse through my pants, and wince as suddenly I’m reminded that my hide is already suffering. “Oh right...” I say, scrunching up my face. “Already feeling the wrath of Jim...”

_I grin. "Whatever we do today, I suggest it shouldn't involve much sitting... maybe not a three-hour double feature film?"_

_I climb on top of you, rub your bottom, making you sigh in pleasure._

“Mmm... I could get used to this,” I breathe as you rub my sore arse. “Getting thrashed within an inch of my life and then -“ I sigh again blissfully. “Being rubbed and climbed on by a feral Kitten...”

_I dig my nails into your skin, making you gasp. "Careful who you call Kitten... the cane is sitting *right there*," I growl softly into your neck, which rewards me with goosebumps._

I have to stifle a squirm at the vibration on your voice growling against my neck. Fuck... No one has had an effect like this on me, ever...

“Sorry, darling,” I grin, batting at your shoulder. “Won’t happen again...”


	22. Perfect Day

_The day is long, bright, and luscious. We walk around Dublin, with not much aim at all, enjoying the sunshine and each other. I show you some pretty bits which for the first time ever actually look attractive, just because of your presence. We walk past the river, talking about the future and our dreams, how we will decorate our flat, the places we'll visit once we have some money. We ramble around Phoenix Park, make out in the bushes. You buy me ice cream._

_We eat at a pub, in the beer garden. They won't let me have beer but you sneak me sips of yours. We talk nonsense and make each other laugh so much we cry._

_When we arrive at the gay bar, my face is glowing from the sun and from happiness. I smile when I realize that Lou Reed's ‘A Perfect Day’ is playing._

_I think I must be dreaming._

I hold out my hand and you look at me with stars in your eyes... then I sweep you off to the dance floor and you settle into my arms and we begin to move in a slow circle. I’m feeling like a prince who has made your dreams come true...

God, Jim... I will never forget this feeling...

_It's too perfect. It can't last. I can never last..._

_You're going to meet someone else when you're back in England... you're not coming back..._

_Your dad is going to get wind of it, and hold you there..._

_No..._

_No, that's impossible. Nothing like this could ever be lost. Never._

_We dance and dance, and drink when we're tired of dancing, and chat, and dance some more._

You were right about the music - not really my style. But then, like I’ve told you, I’ve been to plenty of gay bars and it doesn’t irritate me - the vibe is good, which is all I care about. I’m buying rounds of drinks for both of us, and neither of us can stop smiling. And after all, I’m with you - so they could be playing a symphony of chainsaws and out of tune bassoons, and I’d still be grinning like an idiot.

But when they do play songs I like, I make sure to grab your hand and pull you onto the dance floor. I suspect we’ll be coming here a lot - I wonder if I can bribe the DJ to play a heavy rotation of songs we both like, and then I remember I won’t have endless cash in my pockets any more - which is a strange, disconcerting thought that makes me swallow hard. But then I remember it sure as fuck never brought me any happiness - unlike you.

Your eyes light up as a familiar intro starts to play, and I finish my beer and extend my hand, grinning. You pull me onto the dance floor, hips swaying.

God what a difference to our first couple of times in a club... was it really just a few days ago??

_There lived a certain man in Russia long ago_

_He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow_

_Most people looked at him with terror and with fear_

_But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear_

You fly into theatrical mode, feigning being a charismatic religious lothario as you dance. When I pretend to be one of the Moscow chicks sashaying towards you, you don’t bat an eye - staying in character with piercing eyes and a cunning smile, you _mesmerize_ me. I have to remind myself to keep dancing as you sway against me, your fingers trailing over my body.

_Ra ra Rasputin_

_Lover of the Russian queen_

_There was a cat that really was gone_

_Ra ra Rasputin_

_Russia's greatest love machine_

_It was a shame how he carried on_

Your arms wave enchantingly in the air like anemones... your hips thrust like a Dionysian god... Even though I’ve always been told I was an amazing dancer, you’re at a whole other level...

I pull you into a spin around the dance floor, and you throw back your head, eyes flashing with pleasure. God, Jim... if I weren’t already madly in love with you, I would have been a goner...

Hey, hey, hey, hey

_I’m on fire; the music flowing through me, my body a conduit between the earth and the stars; and you’re my moon, lighting up my orbit, and then spinning me round the room..._

Oh, those Russians...

_I fall into your arms, laughing and panting. We make our way off the dance floor to catch our breath; get a drink - just a water for me, I’m sweaty - and look for a spot to sit. There are two chairs at a table where an older couple are sitting. You point at the chairs, one of the guys nods, smiling._

_I look at them - holding hands, drinking red wine and beer. They’re greying, but it’s clear that the smaller one has dark hair and the larger man is blond. They have lines in their faces, from a lot of pain, but also a lot of laughter. Two cats judging by the hairs on their clothes, a tortie and white and a black one - wait - the dark-haired guy has the black one, the blond has the tortie - they don’t live together. The blond man has a mark where he used to wear a wedding ring - recently divorced? Or widowed?_

_That explains why they’re so gingerly touching hands, and looking so delighted to just be able to do that -_

_Fuck, I love this place, and I hate this fucking country where these poor guys can’t just sit wherever they want and have their date or whatever in a quiet pub._

_You lean over to me. “That’s us in forty years...”_

You beam at me, and I kiss your hand. The older gentlemen exchange glances, smiling beatifically. Then they move their chairs closer and begin to murmur to each other.

I sling an arm around your shoulders, and cross one leg over the other at the ankles. We sit listening to the music, sipping our drinks, and touching each other non-stop - stroking each other’s hair, faces, idly playing with fingers, kissing each other deeply... I’ve never been so happy. The only discordant note is that time is running out, and I don’t know how to make it stop - I don’t want tonight to ever end. I don’t want to leave you. How am I ever going to leave you??

_How did today pass already?? Just now we were waking up; and here we are, the club closing, walking home, trying not to hold hands, me giggling at you humming Diana Ross, arriving at the Fitzsimonses’, which feels so much more like home than any place ever has, falling into bed kissing and loving and making love, gently because you are still hurting, and falling asleep in your arms again and then there’s only one day left –_

I awake with a start and look around, eyes wide. You’re in my arms, still sleeping. I relax slightly at that - but then the realization hits me that this will be the last morning waking up with you where I don’t need to leave the country. At least until I’m back permanently. But tomorrow will be a very different feeling...

I stare at you stunned at the magnitude of what I feel for you. How could someone I met only a week ago have become _everything_ to me? And yet, it happened. And somehow we need to get through today and make the most of every moment together... without having a meltdown... I cover my eyes, my chest feeling tight.

You can do this, Moran...

_No I can’t -_

You _can and you will_ , I growl at myself. This is for your future - yours and Jim’s. So we won’t be found out by authorities or private investigators. And we’ll be safe, free, and together - finally.

Safe. Free. Together. I let out a shaky sigh and rest my head lightly against yours.

_I hear a trembling Tiger sigh... and then a Tiger leans against me._

_I lift my hand, stroke your hair._

_"Bad dream?"_

“Maybe... I don’t remember...” I breathe against your neck. “Just - not looking forward to tomorrow morning...”

I swallow hard.

Oh fucking perfect... way to start the day on a positive note, Sebastian...

_Oh no -_

_Oh no don't -_

_I was trying not to think about -_

_My eyes are turning hot, tears squeeze their way out -_

_Nooooo..._

_I grab you, bury my face against your chest._

“Oh no... oh Jim, no... I’m so sorry,” I say helplessly. My arms tighten around you.

“It will be ok... we’ll be together again, sweetheart,” I croon. “It’ll be hard, I know. Fuck, I’m dreading arriving home and being by myself. But we’ve both been through _far_ worse than this... and this time, at least we’ll have something to look forward to. Starting our life together... which I cannot wait for.” I whisper, wiping away your tears with my hand and kissing your hair.

_"I know, and I know we've got through worse, but... I don't know how to imagine - a *month*... I'm just - I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so selfish - but the thought of waking up without you - so many days... having to get *through* them; going to sleep alone... I can't even get through *twelve hours* without you..."_

_I cling to you as closely as I can, wrapping my arms and legs around you._

“You know... I thought I was doing this for Mum at first,” I say softly. “But I realize now if you asked me to stay, I would. Because there’s no one I love more than you, and you are my number one priority in life. Which is why I _need_ to go. Because they won’t leave us alone... and if they know my location, they _will_ find me. They’ll spare no expense. And with us being in a gay teen domestic relationship which is illegal... and you being fourteen and without a legal guardian... they’d probably shove you into a home again... or worse for breaking the law,” I say sorrowfully. “This is the only way we can make this work...”

Something loosens in my chest as I speak. Somehow knowing I would stay if you asked helps me feel less guilty. Now it’s not about me keeping us apart, but a strategy...

_My heart jumps up when you say you'd stay if I'd ask you -_

_*You can't Jimmy -*_

_And then you explain why you *have* to go, and what could happen if you stayed, and you're right, you're *right*, but it hurts so bad..._

_"But - won't they come after you if you disappear from Eton? And won't they think of Ireland?"_

I consider this. “Not if I leave a note. Maybe I’ll say that the pressure of the relationship got to me. When they contact Victoria, she’ll be believably surprised. I could say... that I’m just biding my time until I can join the army. I’ve actually considered it before... I’ve even threatened my father with it...” I laugh bitterly. “God, how he _raged_ at the thought of his only heir in the armed forces... But then they’ll know that there’s nothing they can do legally to get me out...”

I kiss your hair again. “What do you think?”

_"You? In the army?" I snort. "With your mouth? You'd be out on your arse the moment you opened it._

_But it's a good idea. You'll be eighteen soon... hopefully they'll leave you alone. And indeed, if they think of Ireland they'll think of Victoria. You might have to tell her though - otherwise if she hears your mam is worried, she may tell her about how you were in fact dating someone else, and that would get them over here anyhow, to see if you'd got back to 'Jamie'..."_

I sigh. “I was banking on Victoria not giving a shit about anyone but herself... but yeah I suppose if I’m actually missing, maybe she would tell the truth. Fine. I need to call my parents today anyway to see what time we’re leaving...” I ignore the hollow feeling in my stomach. “I should call her at the same time... and see if she’s going to demand anything of me to keep my secret...” My jaw sets and I look at you. Your expression looks odd for a moment. “Not sex!” I assure you nervously. Aww, Jim... your jealousy knows no bounds.

I pull you back into a hug. “And what do you mean, ‘with my mouth?’” I tease. “I’m perfectly capable of saying ‘Yes, Sir’... _and_ you never had any complaints about my mouth, did you...”

_"Don't you dare use your mouth on any pretty sergeants, Sebastian..." I growl. "I'm the only Sir you're going to say yes to - isn't that right?" I stare at you intently._

“I’m not going to join the army!” I protest. “ _Or_ use my mouth on anyone but you... and of course you’re the only one I would say Sir to... who else do you think could put me in my place like you do? _No one_... that’s who...” I say and kiss you fiercely.

_"You better remember that, in far exotic England..." I growl, bite your neck. You groan, lean back, and I have to hold myself back not to bite through the skin - *so* beautiful, *so* close..._

_I move down, kiss your chest, bite your nipples, a lovely moan, then move further, further, till I come to your crotch..._

_"This gorgeous cock is mine, Sebastian..." I say, then lick up your shaft. "You won't forget that, will you?"_

“ _God_... how could I?” I groan. “No one has made me feel like you do...”

I shiver at the sensation of your tongue teasing my cock. “It’s all y-yours, Sir...” I say feeling utterly intoxicated by you, your touch, your _voice_... “I _promise_...” I say, my voice shaking as my body jerks with pleasure.

_"Good..." I purr. "Because you know us fair folk; we could just magic it off and hold it here for safekeeping... until you'd done three impossible tasks for us to get it back..."_

_I hold your cock close to me, kiss it. "I think he seems perfectly happy to stay with me..."_

“I’m sure he thinks I’m _very, very stupid_ for leaving, yes,” I say sucking in my breath as your lips and tongue continue to make little Seb twitch with delight. God, he’s practically preening at your attention...

_"It's alright, my dear friend," I explain. "It's a month we sacrifice, to gain a lifetime... we'll have *so much* fun, you and I. And Big Seb can join in, if he's good..."_

I choke out a laugh, feeling your breath on my cock - followed by feather-soft kisses. My entire body feels hypersensitive to touch - given your teasing and my still-sore flesh...

“If I’m good?” I ask, shivering.

_"Of course. If you're not good, I'll punish you, and only use you for my pleasure..." I smile. "Thrash you and fuck you in the morning before work, and then send you off with a smack on your bum..."_

I groan, feeling your smile against my cock as you kiss it again. “Oh that sounds - just - terrible...” I mumble, feverish with desire...

_I growl against your cock, "You're going to be my true Tiger, never without my stripes..." I dig my fingers into your chest, pull my nails down, making you shiver and groan._

_Enough - I want that cock, want to hear you moan, see you writhe for me..._

_I take you into my mouth, suddenly, deep._

I moan loudly at the sudden sensation of wetness, pressure, and dizzying pleasure as you swallow my cock.

“Oh god,” I gasp, my body jerking with pleasure while you suck me expertly. “Fuck, _Jim_ -“

_This cock is mine and I'm going to make damn sure it will never forget that. I pull out all the stops - I have got to know you so well over these past days, Sebastian; I know exactly how to make you melt in my hands, and in my mouth..._

You pleasure me in ways even _I_ didn’t know existed... and I fancied myself a virtuoso. You draw noises out of me that I’ve never heard before... I hear myself pleading every time you slow down. When I look down at you desperately I see how much pleasure you’re deriving from being in control of every sensation... leaving me shaking and begging for release.

“Please, Sir...” I moan, my cock twitching under your tongue. “ _Fuck_... please let me come...”

_That's right, my Sebastian... I'll make you so mad you won't even *think* about anyone else. How could you let someone else touch your cock after *this*? It could only be woefully disappointing... no, my love, you're mine, mine forever, mind, body, heart, and soul..._

_Now come, spill yourself into me, give yourself to me, so I can take you in..._

You suck me harder and faster... harder and faster...

Insensate and swooning with desire, I feel my body shudder violently once, twice - There’s an utterly maddening spike of pleasure that leaves me gasping -

and then I’m sobbing with relief as my body dissolves into ecstasy.

I hear myself calling your name over and over again as I come so hard in your mouth... My muscles are trembling as I return to my body, drenched with sweat.

“Holy fuck,” I pant, wide-eyed. “God, Jim... how did you do that?”

_Simple, my dear... paying attention to your reactions, increasing the actions that bring good responses, decreasing the actions which don't. Accumulate data over the course of a week, then combine them all, whilst staying alert to the current mood and feedback and adapting accordingly. It's not rocket science._

_"Ah, us old folk have our magic..." I grin impishly. "We use it to bind mortals to us... and then use them for our pleasure." I grab your hair, kiss you hard, then push you down. I know another very talented cocksucker... and it's time he shows his skills._

I’m still swooning from the orgasm that swept through me like wildfire... as well as your bewitching words... and your possessive kiss... when I suddenly find my head being pushed down to your hard cock.

Eagerly I take you in my mouth and get to work - I feel incapable of thought other than ‘cock’ and ‘hot’ and ‘good’... soon I’m moaning like a porn star as I suck the most beautiful cock I’ve ever had between my lips. As I hear your gasps and groans fly towards the ceiling at an ever-increasing rate, I smile with satisfaction.

_You must always be on my cock, because when you're sucking me I don't feel pain, I don't feel sadness or worry; all there is in the world is bliss and wonder._

_You're a miracle; the most beautiful and wonderful creature ever created, and you are mine, mine, mine... you'll only be away for a few weeks and then we'll be together forever... forever Tiger..._

_I groan as I deliver myself to you, shudder my joy, but tears are still prickling in my eyes. I have a whole day with you, again, but the words Last Day are stencilled black and ugly and threatening over it as the seconds tick inexorably away._

After your gorgeous orgasm, where I listen to your beautiful sounds until you pull my hair in desperation... I haul myself up to lie against you. We spend a long time nestled in each other's arms, kissing and whispering... in a state of utter enchantment.

If I speak in a normal volume or talk about mundane things, I'll break the spell... and I want to stay here forever. We can do that, right? Just as I'm thinking this, my stomach growls loudly.

You look at me, amused.

"Wasn't me," I say innocently. My lips twitch as I try to hide a smile.

_"I guess it's time for one of your gigantic breakfasts again..." I smile._

"Oh no, I'll keep it light for you, dearest..." I smirk, and kiss your cheek.

_"Truly? Only half a pig shall be slaughtered! And several vegetables shall retain their place in the ground, while only a dozen chickens will be robbed of their offspring._

_Oh well. As long as plenty of coffee beans die, I shall live."_

I laugh. “Yes, half the pig will escape the hatchet. The vegetables in the ground will rejoice to see another day. And the chickens, well, they’ll create more offspring... but many coffee beans will fall today - into the cup, for the pleasure of the King...”

_You trot downstairs to cook our breakfast. Our penultimate breakfast..._

_*Stop it* Jimmy. It's only for a month. You're gloomy as if he's due for the gallows tomorrow - he's just going away. For a holiday; a few weeks and he'll be back. You can phone him. Six days; phone. Six days; phone. Six days; phone - six days - and he's back. You're spoilt. You never had this, and now you have it, you don't know how you're going to survive a month? You should feel delighted that you have it and will have it forever and ever after only a month..._

Are there really only two more breakfasts before I go away?

God, I hope we're not leaving too early tomorrow...

As the eggs are sizzling away, I realize there's something I want to do for you before I leave - I hope you'll like it...

My heart begins to pound... my stomach fills with butterflies as I flip the eggs.

_No pop songs to slaughter today, my sweet? Are you feeling the pending doom too?_

_I shoot up, and that brings relief, as always. I really am not going to quit until the week before you come back, after I've spoken on the phone to you for the last time, so that I know absolutely sure that you'll be with me in a week._

_I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, kiss your neck. "That smells delicious, my love..."_

A glowing smile spreads across my face as I hear you pad into the kitchen, and feel your lips on my neck...

"Mmm, not nearly as good as you," I purr and pull you closer to me. As I kiss your forehead, I squeeze your arse. You swat me, but your smile lights up my heart.

I begin to plate up breakfast as you pour coffee.

"Whatever we end up doing, I'd like to swing by downtown today… I was thinking of buying a little thank you gift for Victoria, hopefully it will inspire her to keep the ruse going while I'm gone... I hope that's alright, baby?" I say casually as I slide toast onto the plates. I do plan to buy her something, but the main purpose of my outing would be entirely for you.

_"Yeah, sounds good..." I say. I want to buy you something, but I don't have any money... I could shoplift something I suppose, but I'm even more frightened of being caught now than I was before - I'd lose Georgie and you both._

_No, I'll buy you something when you're back, and I have a job. My very first wages will go to a lovely gift for you, Sebbie._

Your voice sounds a bit wistful... but you don't seem jealous, which is good.

Is it money? You said you'd let me leave you some, so I have to also stop by a cash machine... I wish you had a bank account, so I'd be sure it wouldn't be stolen. Fuck, so much to worry about...

but I don't want to fritter the day away on such things.

I smile at you across the table as we sit down. "Anything you'd like to do, my darling?"

_"Whatever makes the day pass slowest," I smile wryly. "Unfortunately any time spent with you just flies by... wasn't it only yesterday that I tried to nick your wallet?"_

I snigger. "Little shit," I say fondly, and stroke your hair. "Thank Christ you thought I was a good mark. Either that or you were dazed by my arse," I say innocently and wink at you.

_"Yes. It was a crime against aesthetics to distort its perfect curve with a wallet, so I tried to remedy that..." I grin._

I laugh loudly at this, and draw you closer to me for a kiss. "Mmm... good thing you have such an eye for beautiful... aesthetics," I grin.

_"And a good thing that you're a forgiving man... or just keen for a fight," I smile as I eat my bacon. I can't believe we're already reminiscing on how we met..._

I lean back in my chair, taking such pleasure in watching you eat. Before too long we're finishing up and engaging in our usual routine - where I insist you eat a bit more and then I happily finish your meal. This time you stay to help me with the dishes, and we keep fake-bumping into each other and elbowing each other, and then pretending to get huffy. I'm in absolute bliss...

_You hiss when I slap your bottom - oh yes. That's not going to be comfortable tomorrow... well, at least you'll be thinking of me._

_Not that I think you wouldn't - the way you look at me, like you are trying to soak me up like a sponge, so you'll be able to conjure up the image of me moving in your mind whenever you need._

_After we've cleaned up we get dressed. "Do you need to phone your mam?" I ask._

I sigh. “Yes, I should...”

My heart is racing while I wait for the phone to be picked up. God, _please_ let it be later in the day... if it’s early, it will feel like I’m being torn away from you...

“Hello?” Mum’s voice - thank god. I couldn’t deal with Lord Fuckhead right now.

“Hallo, Mum... is Father alright?” I ask dutifully. As an image pops into my mind of him doing his Egyptian-style strut, I stifle a laugh.

“Of course, why wouldn’t he be?” she says brightly.

“He seemed... out of sorts when I left?” I say, perplexed. Oh god... of course, pretend nothing happened...

“Oh goodness! Everyone drinks _so_ much more at events outside of London, don’t they,” she titters. “But everyone had a wonderful time, I’m sure...”

“I’m sure,” I agree, rolling my eyes. “Mum - about tomorrow?“

“Don’t worry, Sebastian- I know you’ll want to spend as much time as possible with your sweetheart, so I’ll ask a servant to pack your things,” she says, sounding delighted. “Tomorrow we’ll be leaving from the house at - 3 o’clock. Please be here by 2 at the latest...”

Leaving sometime after 4, be there a few minutes before 3, I think to myself. They’re used to me being late, so they always heavily pad departure times.

“Absolutely, Mum! I’d best be off and not keep Victoria waiting...”

“Say hello for us!” she sings. “Enjoy your day, dearest...”

“Oh... I will,” I assure her. “You too, Mum!”

I put the phone down on the receiver and look at you, waiting on the sofa looking hopeful.

“Need to be home by 3,” I tell you, and sit on the sofa next to you. I gather you up against me. “At least we get part of the day together...” I sigh.

_"You'll be able to stuff me with breakfast one more time - that should last me for two weeks at least," I grin, sticking out my belly and patting it._

_"Shall we head into town, then?"_

It’s so hard not to grab your hand as we walk down the street, especially after the level of intimacy we’ve reached.

We chat and laugh easily which is a relief. When I see the shop I have in mind, I nudge you. “I’m just going to pop into a shop for a few minutes, it won’t take me long. Do you want to meet me at that pub? We can grab a drink and decide where to go today?” I try to sound casual. But what if you suggest going in with me?

_Why don't you want me to go in with you? What are you going to buy for Victoria that you don't want me to see? I feel a bit hurt when I head to the pub, sit on the bench outside. It's a lovely day, again. I turn my face up to the sun._

In the jewellery shop, I find what I’m looking for - a pair of plain silver rings. I ask if it’s possible to engrave them inside the band - quickly. One with a J, one with an S... the kind shop owner agrees. I browse for a gift for Victoria, something non-symbolic that she’ll like. I settle on a pretty but generic charm bracelet. As I pay, I glance at my watch, worried. That took more than five minutes... I hope you’re not upset. I take my packages and thank the man, hiding the box with the rings in my pocket. Then I hurry out. When you see me, you have a bemused look on your face.

I sit on the bench next to you. “Sorry about that. Found a nice bracelet, I’m sure that will do...” I open up the velvet gift bag and show you.

I wonder if I should give you your ring yet - but no, I want a more private moment.

“Do you want a drink, or shall we go?” I ask, my stomach once again filling with butterflies.

_The bracelet looks innocent enough. Alice in Wonderland-themed charms - good quality craftsmanship, but nothing too symbolic._

_But - I noticed the box in your pocket, Seb. Your jeans are tight enough that it stands out like Ayer's Rock. What else did you get her, that you don't want me to see? Why?? What's going on between you?_

_I shrug. "We can go for a walk - I don't think they'd serve me, anyway."_

As we walk you’re not saying much at all, just answering me in short, listless sentences... what the hell is going on, Jim? I get that you’re feeling upset about me leaving, but... why are you taking it out on me and wasting our last day together?

My jaw sets. I don’t want to confront you while we’re walking, so I suggest we go to the park you had mentioned. I keep trying to engage you in conversation, and you seem to be enjoying making it difficult to do so. When we arrive I point you towards a bench that’s off the beaten path and somewhat hidden by trees. All the time we’ve spent in near-silence has finally got to me. I sit down and you follow, not looking at me.

“Alright... what’s going on Jim?” I demand, crossing my arms. “Are you angry at me for leaving? You said you understood!”

_I try not to think about it, but I'm already feeling so vulnerable because you're leaving in 24 hours and what's going on with you and Victoria? Are you playing a double game? She obviously likes you... are you keeping both of us sweet so you can make your mind up in peace? Back in England, will you realize that really, it's ridiculous to throw your life away for some crazy kid? Will I phone up one Saturday and get the butler instead informing me that Master Sebastian is not available and please, not to ring again?_

_You try to engage me in pointless conversation, but I can't. I'd rather you just tell me now, Sebastian. Even if you haven't made up your mind yet. At least I know - not to pin all my hopes -_

_In the park, you set me on a bench, demand to know what's wrong. You tell me, Seb..._

_"What else did you buy for Victoria that I'm not allowed to see?" I blurt out._

“What?” I ask, bewildered.

Wait - how did you know I bought something else??

You look at me, your eyes flaring with accusation - before your gaze flicks towards my pocket.

Shit - I can’t even deny it. I feel a flash of annoyance before I see what’s underneath the anger in your eyes - such sadness, such grief...

Oh Jim...

“Alright... you found me out, inspector...” I hold my arms up for a moment. “But why would you think it was for Victoria??”

I reach into my pocket, draw out the box, and stare at it for a moment. For the first time I’m starting to question my choice. What if it seems too much like promising marriage which we can’t even do; too heterosexual, too overtly romantic? What if you think it’s trite and saccharine? Well, too fucking late now...

I hold it out to you, my heart fluttering in my chest. Please don’t think it’s stupid, Jim...

“Go on,” I say softly, and swallow hard.

_'Why would you think it was for Victoria??'_

_What - you went in to buy something for Victoria - who else would you -_

_A noise starts growing in my head, louder and louder -_

_and you get out a - box -_

_\- I can't think - can't - deafening static -_

_My hand trembles when I take the box -_

_\- box -_

_\- box grows blurry, my other hand moves to the lid - pulls it open -_

_Two silver bands shine up at me._

_The hand holding the box trembles so much, the other hand flies to my mouth as I start sobbing._

I stare at you in shock. I was imagining all manner of reactions, but this was _not_ one of them...

“Jim??” I move closer to you and touch your shoulder as you weep - remaining mindful that we’re in a public space and we can’t be too -

Fuck it. Fuck _careful_.

My arms move about you and I feel your body heaving with sobs. I tuck your head under my chin, and stroke your hair.

“Jim, what’s wrong??” I plead. “Don’t you - like it?”

_Oh no - no oh god I love - love you - love..._

_... can't speak -_

_"love – it -..." I sob. "Sorry Seb..."_

I sag against you slightly.

Oh thank fuck... but now I’ve made you cry...

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you... I just - wanted to surprise you...” I say my voice shaking.

_"You did - oh god you did - Seb..."_

_A new bout of sobbing ensues. Stop this, Jimmy..._

_But he bought me a *ring*..._

“I wanted you to have something so - you knew I’d come back,” I say weakly. “It’s my promise...” God, you’re still crying so hard... what can I do??

“Here, look -“ I take one of the rings and hold it up so you can see the engraved initial. You turn your head to look, eyes streaming.

“S is for- well, you know...” I laugh self-consciously. “Jim, you don’t think this is silly, do you? Too - heterosexual?”

_What the fuck??_

_"Heterosexual?" I repeat, dumbly. What does that have to do with anything? "It's - it's so beautiful Seb, so beautiful... and yeah you *better* come back; I'm going to chase you to the ends of the earth..." I try to smile through my tears. "I love it, Seb... I love it..."_

Relief floods through me. "Of course I'll come back! Oh, Jim - were you worried about that? And - _Victoria?"_ I stare at you, stunned. "God, I've never felt this way about anyone - you're all I care about, _all I want_..." My eyes flood with tears.

"Can I-? " I take the ring and look at you.

_I know that, *I know that*, and yet the moment something happens I don't know that any more... I'm such an insecure little twat..._

_Oh god you're going to put it on my finger you're going to - oh god -_

_I do a quick look around - a boy comforting a crying smaller boy is one thing, but putting a ring on his finger - but there aren't many people around on a Monday, despite the nice weather, and we're shaded by trees -_

_\- then I look up at you, hold out my hand, wanting to look into your eyes, and at your hand, holding the ring -_

_moving it –_

I slide it onto your ring finger of your right hand - slowly and holding my breath. Until it slides to the end I don’t know if you will snatch your hand back and say you don’t want it, you changed your mind, or anything that would crush my heart in this moment.

But you don’t - you just watch as I do it, sniffling.

It’s a bit big, but that’s good - room to grow.

“You could wear it on a different finger or on a chain?” I suggest. My voice sounds unfamiliar. Why am I so nervous??

You look from the ring to me and back again.

“Jim, I know you said you loved it... But is this - too much?” I ask helplessly.

_Oh my god - you're putting a ring on my finger._

_A ring._

_On my finger._

_Which you bought, specifically, so I would know you're coming back - and I thought you were buying something for *Victoria* - and I was grumpy about it -_

_Tears start flowing again._

_You're getting worried - I must speak -_

_"No - not too much - so beautiful - thank you Seb... thank you..." I manage to stammer._

"Thank Christ," I say in a shaky voice. I wipe away your tears, still mindful of being out in public - but after a quick glance I see none of the few people in the park staring at us in outrage; or even looking in our direction.

"I was worried you thought it was sappy or, I don't know - old-fashioned?" I confide. "But even if it is, I really mean it..."

I take the remaining ring out of the box, and show you the engraving of an elegant 'J'. "Do you want to-?" I ask softly.

_One of these days I am going to stop crying..._

_"Not - old-fashioned... just - so sweet... you're so sweet, Sebastian..."_

_I take the ring. J. You're going to wear a ring with a J._

_"The Greeks thought that the vein from the ring finger led straight to the heart, which is why we place rings on this finger," I sniffle. "And the ring itself is a symbol of eternity - as the ring never ends, nor will my love for you..."_

My breath catches in my throat. God... that was _so beautiful..._

and I was just going to hand you a ring?

This is feeling more and more like -

like -

an exchange of... vows.

I stare at you, stunned.

"I will love you until my last breath... and beyond..." I whisper. "And I will return to you, Jim... I swear upon my life."

The thought occurs to me suddenly that I don't even know your last name... but this hardly seems the time to ask.

I hold out my hand to you.

_You swore. You swore upon your life. How could I ever think you aren't sincere?_

_I put the ring on your finger. It fits perfectly._

_God, this feels so -_

_permanent._

_I look at you._

_Fuck anyone who sees us._

_I grab you and kiss you._

I feel myself being grabbed and kissed, and I don't take a lot of convincing to throw caution to the wind - I kiss you back with a fervent passion I've never experienced up until now, even with you.

I'm wearing your ring. You're wearing mine.

You are _mine_...

"Jim..." I murmur against your lips. "I love you...for always..."

_... and here come the tears again. I will have shed all the tears I've kept inside all these years soon..._

_"I love you too Sebastian... I thought I wasn't capable... you've shown me I am - you've brought me back to life. My Sebastian..."_

Oh, my sweet Jim... I feel myself trembling for a moment as I see you crying. Tears suddenly flood my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks.

"Now look what you've done..." I try to joke, my voice raw with emotion. I swipe at the rivulets of moisture stinging my skin. "Oh god..." I snuffle into my sleeve. "What kind of juvenile delinquent am I? They're going to revoke my membership..."

You laugh softly through your tears and I bury my face in your neck. "You have too, Jim... I wanted to die. Oh god, you have no idea how often I thought about doing it... fuck..." I sob. "Thank you for what you've given me..."

_"I'm so sorry Seb... for everything that happened to you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again..."_

_I swipe at my own tears. "And I'm supposed to be a psychopath... don't let the psychiatrists see me..." I chuckle._

_The ring shines brightly on my finger._

_"It's so beautiful Seb... so gorgeous. I love it." I move it from my ring finger, put it on my middle finger. That's better. "I don't want to lose it... it will fit once I've grown a bit."_

I take your hand in mine and interlace the fingers - your ring slides against mine, and I smile.

"I look forward to seeing these hands together... every night, forever," I sigh and kiss your hand before letting it go and glancing around the park again. Now I'm feeling extra protective about you - god, we feel practically married. My heart glows at the thought.

"So - you like the rings?" I ask with a playful smile. "They're engraved now, can't take 'em back... Guess you're stuck with me."

_"I don't know, I could always hook up with Stu..." I snigger. You gasp and overact being hurt; grasp at your heart._

_"I love them, Seb. I will always keep it. Will get it enlarged if it gets too tight._

_Thank you. Thank you so much." I lift your hand, kiss the ring._

_"I - didn't get you anything..."_

"Wrong... you got me the most beautiful thing on the planet," I say looking at you glowingly.

_"If you don't stop making me cry I'll dehydrate..." I smile through my tears._

"We can't have that..." I smile at you lovingly as I wipe away your tears yet again. "Shall we go? Only... what on earth can we do to follow _that_ up for entertainment? Plot to blow up Parliament?" I snigger.

_"What a great idea! Have I ever told you how I would do it?"_

_We get up and walk through the park, having an animated discussion about blowing up both the British and Irish parliaments. It's a good thing not many people are around._

By the end of our discussion, I'm laughing my arse off. "So we're agreed about the best plan of attack. Shelve it for another day? It's already mid-afternoon..." I grin at you. "Anything else you want to do before we head back?"

_"Except for blowing up Parliament? I mean, it's only mid-afternoon..."_

_I sober. "The bracelet - when are you going to give it to Victoria? And you should probably call her - I mean, does she know you're supposed to be with her? What if she's called your parents?"_

I sigh. "Fuck. You're right... I thought I'd pop by her place tomorrow with the bracelet and to explain my plan to her. But I should call her today, just to be safe..."

We walk towards a phone booth, and I call her. Thankfully she answers and says no, she did not call for me today. She was too busy recovering from the attentions of a certain gentleman's cock - the one she left with from the ball, I can only assume. When she proceeds to divulge details about their illicit night together, I interrupt quickly. "Victoria! Not that I'm not fascinated by which positions from the Kama Sutra you tried out, but I need to talk to you about my plan. And I have a thank you gift for you. Will you be around tomorrow early afternoon?"

"No, I shall not," she says cheerfully. "I have a date with Stu, and I'm sorry but if you're not going to give me what I want, then I'm not changing my plans.

Wait - a _gift?_ What a sweet boy... you can give it to me today. I'm heading downtown for a date..."

"The son of an Earl with the talented cock?" I say pleasantly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact! Meet me in two hours? Outside the Rifleman's Arms..."

"In two hours... Outside the Rifleman's Arms?" I glance at you and you nod. "Alright, see you soon..."

I hang up and look at you. "Sorry, tomorrow didn't work for her. Thank Christ you suggested I call... Do you mind terribly?"

_"No; we need to keep her sweet - good to arrange it and have a chance to chat."_

_I walk beside you, pondering._

_"You know - I'm wondering," I say. "We want her to keep the secret, right - so we have to explain to her that you're going to escape from Eton to be with your love. From what you've seen of her, what do you think - would it help or hinder if she knew that you're not repudiating her delicious advances because you don't like her, but because you are in fact gay? I know you're bi, but she doesn't have to know. It's just - many girls seem to think gay boys are really sweet; and it would probably soothe her hurt pride, and might make her be more on your side - the star-cross'd lover who is risking everything to be with his impossible love."_

I look at you in shock. Is there no end to your brilliance?

"Seeing as it's been clearly on her mind to 'have' me again... and she does get a bit of a chip on her shoulder every time I turn her down..." I say slowly. "Yes, it might be a relief for her to know I wasn't rejecting _her_ but all women... Although I did sleep with her once..." I mutter, then brighten. "But I could say I thought of myself as bi, until I fell madly in love and then I realized I've preferred cock all along. God if anyone would understand the appeal of cock, it would be her..." I grin. "She talks about it enough... we could bond over how delightful they are," I chuckle. "Excellent idea, sweetheart..."

_"I think most gay guys try to be with women, for many reasons - because it's what is expected, because they don't want to be gay, because they aren't sure... Really, I think it's just a kind of spectrum, rather than a binary. I've never *really* had sexual feelings about women, but I'm not completely averse to the idea - I think I'd be able to, if I wanted to. But it's a moot point, because I've only ever been in love with one person, and that's the person I plan to be with for the rest of eternity..." I smile at you._

_I'm glad you think it's a good idea - I've been worried about Victoria; she is an awfully volatile yet essential part of our plan. It wouldn't hurt to put her a bit more firmly in our camp - pun not intended._

I smile back at you. "That's the plan..."

As we stroll out of the park, I consider everything you said. While I was more than happy to sleep with whoever struck my fancy in the moment, regardless of gender... I've been in love with two people and both have been male, I muse. What does that say about me? Maybe it would take a genius to help me figure it out - but I don't want to talk about David or my endless sex partners with you, unnecessarily.

A strange thought though, the notion of you with a woman - I can't picture it and I really don't want to. An uncomfortable feeling arises, and I stifle it.

"So where do you want to kill time while we wait? I need to stop at a cash machine... And are there any shops you want to go into?"

_I don't have any money, but I don't want to say that, because then you'll want to give me some._

_"The Archaeology Museum is right there - it's really great; I think you'll love it. It's got stuff from the stone age times onwards, some great Viking treasures."_

_And it's free._

"Oh, Vikings - good, clean fun," I grin at you. "Let's squeeze in some culture, then..."

We stop at the cash machine where I withdraw enough to (hopefully) keep you safe and well-fed for the four weeks I'm gone.

In the Museum when we're looking at Viking swords that make me practically salivate, I wave you over and surreptitiously slip the roll of cash to you.

Of course you protest and try to give it back - I raise my hands and back away. "Excuse me, Sir... I don't want to be involved in any shenanigans. Don't make me have to call security..." With a wink, I return to looking at swords and dreaming of hacking and slashing Saxon soldiers.

_Seb - no -_

_I said you could give me some money, but this is too much -_

_You won't let me give it back; and as we look at Viking weapons, I plan how to sneak it back to you –_

_but then - you'd be upset, and worried..._

_Is it fair to be too proud to accept money when it would upset your boyfriend *way* more to know that you were earning your money as a prostitute? Would I not be hurting you out of some misplaced sense of independence?_

_Damn it._

_I'll keep it, and not work any more. I'll try to live frugally, and I'll kick the smack, and then when you come back I can give you what I have left. That's a better plan..._

When it’s time to go, we wander out chatting about the exhibit. I love how knowledgeable you are, even about topics I feel confident about like history. Thank Christ I have a strong education or next to you I’d feel like a mindless, muscular lump.

As we approach the pub, I start to feel nervous. Why? A lot is riding on Victoria, true... but there’s also a sense of ‘coming out’ about this meeting, which is strange. It’s not exactly unknown that I seek out the company of gentlemen. What makes this any different - other than declaring my love for a man and announcing my intention to spend the rest of my life with him? How is Victoria going to react to this shocking news? And why does it matter?

As we near the pub, I spot her scanning the street. When her eyes alight on me, she smiles. And then she looks at you.

She appears disappointed for a moment, and then confused as she looks back at me.

“My sweet angel... the hours have been so frightfully empty without you...” I say and kiss her hand.

“Piss off, Sebastian Moran,” she says, but she’s smiling. Then she turns to you. “We’ve met, haven’t we...” she says slowly. “How _is_ your dear sister?” She searches your face with sharp eyes.

_"Nonexistent, I'm afraid.." I smile._

_She looks from you to me. Realization dawns. She's a smart cookie, this one..._


	23. Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye

"Lord Moran," she says in a chiding voice. "You've been keeping secrets from your nearly-betrothed..."

I suppress a shiver at the thought of how close I've been - in appearances at least - to the life I've been resisting with all my might.

Victoria throws back her head and laughs long and hard. "Oh, I've heard the rumours about you, Sebastian - but to see the evidence in flesh and blood..." she shakes her head, grinning. "Well, you've surprised me - and that never happens..."

"You're not upset about me lying?" I ask, feeling relieved.

"Lying is survival," she says, her eyes keen. "And I know that better than anyone..."

She turns back to you. "So, young man... just what are your intentions with our dear, innocent Sebastian?" she says severely, and then dissolves into giggling.

_"Well, I thought I'd get him on his knees to suck my cock until I'm rock hard, and then roger him rotten... every morning and every night the good Lord will grant us."_

Victoria laughs uproariously, wicked delight in her eyes. "I see Sebastian is in _very_ capable hands. Such a lucky boy...” She links arms with you. "God knows what he's told you about me... It's all true. And yes, I have had my sights on him - but now I see how he was able to resist my charms. Well, you certainly have no need of my blessing, but you shall have it." She kisses each of us on the cheek. "Now - I happen to know you're leaving tomorrow, Sebastian... however will true love endure?"

_Well that was a good guess... she seems delighted._

_"I'm so sorry - I know he's irresistible; and I'm sure that if he wouldn't have met me he'd have made you very happy, but well."_

_I let my face grow serious - joking aside, we need her on our side. I hope she has a romantic streak._

_"I - really love him, Victoria. I know we're young, but - we've both been through a lot. And this - what we have - that doesn't come twice in a lifetime."_

_It seems to work - she's all dewy-eyed. I look at you._

I see a flash of what appears to be genuine emotion cross her face, and then she shakes herself. “ _JaisusMaryandJoseph_...” she mutters, and turns her face away. Her hand flutters to her eye for a moment and I hear a muffled sniffle. “Fecking Christ! You’ve found the last vestige of sentimentality in me, and I can’t abide it - I _won’t_ ,” she says, turning back with a pout. “Now - tell me what you need from me, you pair of eejits... Because it’s written all over your faces that you need _something_. And I’ll do my very best not to blackmail your beautiful arse...” she smiles mischievously. “You did say you had a gift...”

_I look at you. You take this? She's your - fake girlfriend..._

I stare at Victoria who’s looking back expectantly. I assumed she was joking but from the look on your face... I’d best be very sure before we leave.

“You’re not - serious...” I say carefully.

She looks confused for a moment. “What? Oh, Jaisus... relax. Not that I wouldn’t consider it with a stranger - but we’re friends now. Aren’t we?” She looks slightly hurt, slightly worried - like she’s realizing she may have gone too far? Which I’m guessing is not a common thing for her.

“Not all friends make jokes about blackmailing - not about serious things...” I scrutinize her expression.

“Lord... I was taking the piss,” she sighs dramatically. “I would have thought you of all people would appreciate my kind of humour - but apparently it’s my lot in life to have the worst thought of me, even when I’m being sincere,” she mutters, scowling at the ground. Then she gives me a half-smile and lays a hand on my arm. “I’m very sorry, Sebastian Moran. I should have realized this would be a sensitive topic. You, too - Sebastian’s sweetheart,” she says more graciously. “You have nothing to fear from me. Just tell me if you need anything from me, for feck’s sake...”

_"Right..." I say. Seb? Tell her? You're not going to make me explain to her that I've somehow convinced you to leave your blessed life to move in with a junkie kid, are you?_

You seem fine with things being divulged as planned and I take a deep breath.

“We’re running away together...” I announce, watching her eyes widen comically.

“You’re not - serious,” she says mocking my previous statement to her.

“Oh, we’re serious... I’m going to go back home, then once I’ve left for school, I’ll take off...”

She looks horrified. “Are you both mental? You’re leaving behind all that wealth, the luxurious lifestyle...? For _love?”_ She exhales forcefully. “Well, if I didn’t think it turned people into fools before, I certainly do now...”

“Victoria... all that wealth meant shit to me before, and the expectations that it came with brought me nothing but grief. Surely you can understand that...”

She looks at me incredulously. “Of course I _understand_... when it’s a risky game, you learn to _play it better_...”

“Well I’m through with _that fucking game_... and I’m ready for a new one,” I smile at you. “Besides, the money will come to me later...”

“Well, that’s something...” she mutters. “So. You’re going to run away like feckin’ Romeo and Juliet, minus the corpses. Where do I come in?”

“I’m going to leave a note, so they don’t suspect foul play. And the only valid excuse I could think of is that I’m not ready for a commitment. Sorry, angel,” I say wryly.

“So when they contact you, can you tell them you don’t know where I am -“

“Don’t tell me where you’re going!” she interrupts. “It’s safer. Shall I say that in our last phone call, I was pressuring you for a commitment? And if you want me to deliver histrionics, they’ll get histrionics... they’ll be _desperate_ to end the conversation with me,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll play the jilted lover, demanding that they bring you back so you can honour your commitment. They’ll probably feel sorry for you... _yeh poor bugger_ ,” she says, shaking her head in mock pity.

_She's loving this - and I have no doubt that she'll do a sterling job. Poor Lady Moran..._

_I'm grinning at her, and she gives me a saucy wink._

_"You little tempter... you got him good, didn't you?"_

_I nod, look at you, then at her. "It's the same for me though... he's - everything. He made my life have colour again."_

_You smile at me, I smile back, and I can feel how my face is beaming._

_Victoria is flapping her hand at us. "Guys, stop it. You're ruining my make-up."_

I’m so relieved how this has turned out... fuck.

“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this, Victoria...” I bring out the velvet bag.

Her eyes fix on it. “Oh, what’s this? I had _completely_ forgotten,” she says innocently.

“You’re so full of shit,” I say sweetly. “I hope you like it...”

_She takes out the bracelet, and seems genuinely pleased. It is very nice - the charms are delicate and detailed, and the white rabbit is utterly cute._

_"Hold on one second though –“ she lowers the bracelet, looks at your hand. “I didn't see that ring on your finger Saturday. And - oh you have the same one - Mr Jamie's brother who isn't Jamie's brother -"_

_"Jamie himself," I grin, hold out my hand, with the ring, to shake hers, but she lifts it._

_"Oh god - you two!"_

“Fecking Christ, Sebastian... when you fall, you fall _hard_...” She shakes her head at me. I can see a flicker of something in her eyes - regret? Or is it just hope that she’ll find the same for herself one day?

Strange thought, two such unlikely candidates for love inspiring romantic longings in others...

“Yep... fools for love, that’s us,” I say cheerfully. “And I’m sure you’ll find a rich, romantic gentleman one day...”

She laughs madly. “Yes, and we’ll have a torrid affair, since I’ll already be married to a _much_ wealthier man with his feet firmly on the ground... but who knows. Maybe I’ll divorce the boring one, if I’m feeling sentimental... anything’s possible if two rogues such as yourselves are so susceptible to such ridiculousness! And now I must be off, mustn’t leave the son of the earl waiting - well, _too_ long,” Her lips curl with satisfaction. “Sebastian, you have my number. I expect you to call me so I can properly get into character... _bastard_ ,” she shouts, and slaps me hard across the face. I stare at her, open-mouthed.

She quickly hugs me, and then you. “You know to keep him on a short leash, don’t you, Jamie... when it comes to a man like him, there are unscrupulous women behind every corner...” She winks again and then strides off, laughter tinkling as she goes.

I stare after her. “God help the poor sucker who ends up marrying her...” I say, stunned. “But thank Christ she’s on our side...”

_I jump up when she slaps you, am almost ready to slap *her* - no one slaps my Sebastian but me - but then she's hugging you, and me, telling me to keep you on a short leash and walking off, leaving us both staring after her open-mouthed._

_"Well. I'm - glad I finally got to meet her properly? I guess?" I turn to you, and we both burst out laughing._

_"Wow." I state. "Yes indeed - I *am* glad she's on our side. Wouldn't want her against us..."_

_You nod, smiling wryly. "Yes. She has a mean right hook... but it looks like your plan worked. She seemed genuinely touched... I've never seen her like that."_

_You put your arm around me, pull me close for a moment, then let go again - a brotherly gesture, innocent enough. "My little genius. That is a weight off my mind, I must say."_

_"Mine too," I confess. "It's all difficult enough without having a volatile spurned lover in the mix - I'm delighted she's happy to be a fairy godmother - pun not intended. And I wish I could hear her when she's having her hysterics about you abandoning her..."_

I laugh, covering my eyes. “Jesus... terrifying thought. I wouldn’t have thought to even ask - but strangely enough, I think it will be helpful. If anyone were confronted with Victoria at the _n_ th degree of drama, I’m guessing they would see it plausible for me to run away as far as possible... even if it’s _a bit_ of an extreme reaction. But then - I’m just a teenager. So I’m supposed to be extreme...” I grin at you. “Now, we’ve gone to a museum, exchanged rings and cried in a lovely park, and made a formidable ally - with someone who may be almost as mad as we are... “

I nudge you with my shoulder. “Who needs to blow up Parliament to have an enjoyable afternoon?” I ask with a sly smile.

_Afternoon. Afternoon has passed._

_It's our last evening together._

_The urge to jump on you and cling to you with all four limbs is strong. It's a weight off my mind that Victoria seems to be secured, though. She was a bit of an uncertain factor._

_I stare at my ring, like it's a tether binding me to you. Somehow it does feel like a comfort, something concrete to remind me that you were real, not just a figment of my imagination._

_We eat Italian at a small lovely restaurant next to the park, then head back home. Tonight we want to be alone together._

We’re quiet as we return to the Fitzimonses’... when we first made ourselves comfortable, I would never have imagined how much it would feel like home. Even though all we’ve really used of the expansive house is the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom... we were a bit bold earlier sitting in the living room. But it was so wonderful to just relax... as if we were a couple who lived together and could throw themselves onto the sofa...

One month, I remind myself.

I wish I could hold your hand as we walk...

When we arrive, when the back door closes behind us, we seek out each other’s lips in the darkness - you press me against the door, your body moulding to mine, and you kiss me sweetly and then - urgently.

“I love you,” I murmur in between kisses as my hands move over your back and arse. “I love you...”

_"I love you Sebastian..." I whisper, and then burst into tears again._

_Bloody hell Jimmy._

_"Never mind this, OK? I can't help it - you just - you've washed away all my defences. I'm open before you... and apparently that means that any sadness just - leaks out..."_

I move your head to rest against my chest, cradling you and kissing your hair.

“I know,” I whisper helplessly. “I know...” I’m trying to contain my tears, because once I start I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. And I need to be strong for you... so we can have the night we both sorely need. To bolster us, give us the strength and courage we need for when I leave tomorrow...

But I can’t think of that right now...

Your tears are beginning to subside and you’re sniffing against me. “I don’t know about you but I’m more than ready for a drink...” I sigh. “I think it’s just what we need...”

_"Yes," I hiccup. "I'm so sorry Seb. I swear I'm not usually a weepy teenager..."_

_"I know," you whisper, hug me, kiss me on the forehead._

_I take a deep breath, follow you to the kitchen, wipe my eyes and blow my nose with a piece of kitchen roll, and get the coke out of the fridge. The rum is still upstairs._

Safely ensconced in the bedroom, we make a nest of blankets and pillows - then we lean against the headboard, you resting comfortably against my chest. We drink and pass a cigarette back and forth. I know we’re going to want to be intimate before too long, but this feels so important - establishing safety and comfort first. And the beautiful numbing effect of alcohol and nicotine... fuck I needed that. I know it won’t be the same without you, but I already know I’m going to be drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney to get through this month. Lord knows I won’t be able to shag myself stupid... maybe I need to just start blowing things up instead... I’d better keep away from Parliament, I think wryly and stub out the cigarette. “Better?” I ask, and kiss your forehead.

_"Yes," I sigh, snuggling close. "You make everything better... I'm going to make like an advent calendar or something, a special memory of you to open every day; to indulge in when I wake up."_

_You look down at my pelvic region. I giggle. "I didn't mean like that - well - maybe I did... quite a few of the best memories are decidedly family-unfriendly..." I grin, then move over, bite your jaw._

As I inhale sharply at your bite, my other arm circles you. “Ohh, I could stand for some family-unfriendliness,” I breathe and then bite your neck.

_I make a sound that sounds like 'gurragh', but you don't seem to mind, and keep kissing my neck, occasionally sucking and biting. My neck is so sensitive, and I never knew... you unlocked so much in me..._

_I lean back as you pull off my shirt, kiss my chest._

I move my lips and tongue over your chest and nipples, making you shiver. “Mmm... you taste good...” I say, revelling in the feel and scent and taste of your skin. “Advent calendar is a good idea... revealing one lewd act per day until Christmas...” I grin, and then drag my tongue over your abdomen. “My little genius...”

_"If you stay away till Christmas I will die..." I don't exaggerate._

_You are pulling my clothes off. I shiver with the contrast between your warm tongue and the air in the room._

“Don’t be silly,” I murmur, kissing one hip bone and then the other. “The advent calendar will be for our first Christmas together... I plan to celebrate every day... long and hard...” I say in a breathy voice and slide my lips over your cock, relishing your low moan...

_"Oooooohhh..." I shiver. "Let's make one each - with a description of something we'd like to do to each other every day... and we'll try to fit both in. And any we can't, we'll save till Christmaaaaasss..."_

_Your lips are making me shiver, pant._

Oooh, good idea... I hum in agreement, and start getting harder at the thought of what we’ll do to each other, as the most beautiful images are streaming through my mind... but then I’m too much in my head, and I have the most beautiful cock in the world in my mouth and I _really_ need to focus on it...

You’re getting so into this, and your moaning is so fucking hot, but no don’t come yet, baby... it’s way too soon for the night to end.

I slide my lips off your cock, grinning. “Not quite ready for the meal to be finished... although it’s making me want to devour it whole...” I growl, as I climb back up along your body, kissing and nibbling your skin.

_It’s a long night of loving, cuddling, talking, crying, and occasionally dozing off and waking up again to be together some more. The morning inexorably approaches, despite my fervent prayers to Aurora to give it a miss today, just for once; to let the night stay for ever, or at least a few hours more..._

In the morning, I lie quietly staring at the ceiling for a long time. Romeo and Juliet Act 3 Scene 5 is swirling around in my head, taunting me... I’ve hated the play since - _well_. Something about your boyfriend being left for dead in a river makes the whole ‘star-crossed’ thing pretty fucking upsetting, I guess...

People see the bloody play as _so romantic_ , but having lived my own version... it’s just fucked up and haunting to me.

But Eton education being what it is... there are lines floating through my mind like disembodied spirits - despite my best efforts to think of Monty Python, war films, _anything_ but that...

And as I’m waiting for you to wake up, desperately trying to not think of these lines - written hundreds of year ago, but carving themselves into my heart this very moment - I realize something. There’s _one more reason_ for leaving that has been unconsciously haunting me all this time...

The thought that if my parents - if _he_ found out about us...

If he _dared_ to have a single hair on your head harmed...

I feel a tremor go through my muscles, and my limbs grow cold. I bunch my hands into fists as a dark maelstrom tears through me...

It couldn’t really be true, could it??

...

I’d blocked it out of my mind since you put forth your theory - but if it _were_ true... if _that man_ had done something so fucked up and reprehensible... what would stop him from doing it again? This time something different, so as not to be _too obvious_... a pedestrian fatality... or an ‘accident’ in the kids’ home that Jim could end up in...

I wonder how he would find a more refined killer this time - to dispatch my love with cold sophistication.

I realize I’ve been trying to steady my breathing and not end up hyperventilating like I used to in the darkest days...

Suddenly my fears of you getting hurt by a junkie or a client are paling in comparison next to the thought of you ending up dead because of _my own father_.

And it would be my fault...

 _again_...

I feel like there’s a burning hot coal in my stomach, searing through my flesh. I still don’t know if it’s true that he could have been responsible for what nearly destroyed me... and I don’t know how I could prove it - or that I even _want_ to, if I’m fully honest with myself.

But if there’s even a chance... then ultimately you’re safer if I leave, and come back when I’m not in danger of bringing the long shadow of Lord Moran into our lives.

I imagine you protesting that you could take care of yourself and that you want me to stay -

I roll over and lean on my elbow to look at you - sleeping on your back, your face pale in the gloom.

Juliet’s final line to Romeo before he leaves comes crashing through my mind, and I swallow back a whimper.

_O God, I have an ill-divining soul._

_Methinks I see thee now, thou art so low_

_As one dead in the bottom of a tomb..._

I shiver, and reach out reflexively to touch you. My hand hovers over your shoulder, not touching... trembling and ghostly white in the darkness of the room.

“Dry sorrow drinks our blood...” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. I fight back against the grief that’s been threatening to crash over me like mammoth waves against jagged rocks...

 _No_. No crying today, soldier. You have your mission, and that’s the final word.

I let out a long slow breath and my eyes open.

I _have_ to leave today. Our life together depends on it - and perhaps our very lives too. Because if you were to die, Jim... I know one thing - I wouldn’t live to see morning.

_"Adieu, adieu..."_

_What? Why am I quoting Romeo?_

_You're not gone already!?_

_I open my eyes, see you look at me, your eyes damp. Light... its envious streaks do lace the blinds._

_I groan, push my head against your chest, blocking it out. "Believe me love, it was the nightingale..."_

“It was the fucking lark,” I mutter, cradling your head.

Then I glance at the clock radio. Thank Christ we woke up early...

I pull you up to look at you. “We have hours yet, don’t worry...” I murmur. “I just - had a maudlin moment.”

Stroking your face, I lean down to kiss you. “Morning, Kitten...”

_"You wish me a good morning like it's possible it will be one..." I complain, but then stop. The morning is for us - and good it shall be._

_I stroke your jaw, then your arm, your back, your bottom. We haven't indulged in much painful pleasure - there's hardly a bit of you that's unmarked and I was more maudlin than ferocious._

_There's nothing I want more than to take Mr Fitzsimons's razor and carve JM into your skin - low on your pelvic area, so it wouldn't be visible to mums and school chums, but a clear warning signal to anyone who dared venture where they're not wanted - but even I know that's a bit insane._

_You're wearing my ring... and I'm engraved upon your heart._

We lie in bed, staring and touching each other's skin - as if memorizing every detail. Every mark, every plane and curve on your face and body is studied and tucked away to be remembered. I can tell you're doing the same.

I smile at you wryly. "You'd think I was going away to war... if only you had a mailing address, I could send you missives from the front, filled with longing... and you could send me a knitted scarf and socks," I say with a wink. "But it's only a month, after all... and not nearly so dangerous."

_"Yes, knitted scarves and socks, just what you need. I hear London is freezing in August. If only I could come with you to the front... jump in front of any bullets, or ladies or lads with amorous intent._

_Yes. Only a month. What's a month, in the grand span of our lives? But - it's going to be harder for me. Because I am younger, a month is longer. And it's always harder on the one staying behind..._

_What I'm saying is, I need a lot of pity."_

"Believe me, it won't be easy on me just because I'm not staying behind..." I grumble. "Considering the insufferable twat whose roof I'll be living under. And seeing as this is the school year I'll be turning eighteen, I'm sure he'll be lecturing me nonstop and trying to stuff my head with utter bollocks in the interest of making a _proper gentleman_ out of me. But that ship sailed - and sank - a long time ago..." I roll my eyes. "I would prefer to be a proper rogue any day... and I rather like _your_ methods of making a man out of me..." I smile at you innocently.

_"True... at least I don't have to deal with my dad -" I chuckle. That would be the horror beyond horrors._

_I'd seen him once or twice after Mam had left - the first time not on purpose, just in town. He was no longer the giant spectre of my nightmares; I recognized him as a sad loser; alcoholic, small-time criminal, and drug dealer. I wanted nothing to do with him. Nor he with me, presumably._

_The second time was when I was looking for Georgie - I was terrified, yet hoping, that he'd been placed with our dad. At least I'd have found him; could have taken him away. But da was living with some other woman and two kids - not his; so god knows how he was treating them – and no Georgie._

_I wonder if he'd heard - he must have, surely. Dublin can be such a small town. Would he have bothered to turn up at her funeral? Sought out Georgie, at all? To say what, exactly? Probably not..._

_Anyway. My lowlife da is the last person I want to think about this morning. I have a proper rogue in my bed who needs a lot of loving._

_"My methods are expensive, but guaranteed to be successful. Only available for *very* exclusive clients."_

I’m surprised to hear you joke about payment and clients - it’s good that you don’t feel any shame or awkwardness about it; I wouldn’t want you to. I’m not sure if I should joke back - we’ve only talked once about your former line of work and we both had a meltdown over the course of the conversation. So I’m not dying to cover the same ground even as a joke; not on the last morning...

I look into your eyes sparkling mischievously, and soften.

“By very exclusive, that better mean _one_ ,” I growl playfully, and nip your neck. Well. That seems safe enough...

_"Oh but not just any one. Finest English aristocracy only. And the most handsome specimen this august society has produced. Nothing but the most elite for our training programme..._

_And thus far we have booked excellent results. Granted, our client is still a bit rambunctious, but you'll be hard-put to find a finer catamite and fellator - and that after only a week. We have high hopes for what a longer regime can yield..."_

As you’re speaking, my hand is slowly trailing over your thigh and hip. I move it towards your arse, enjoying the gleam in your eye - then as you wax poetic about my skills, I clasp your arse and dip my head down to kiss your neck.

“Mmm... this catamite and fellator lives to serve the regime...” I murmur, licking and nibbling under your jaw.

_"See? Excellent results, like I said. Would you believe, scarcely more than a week ago this here young man was tomcatting around town, speaking harshly to yours truly, fighting all and sundry, abusing drugs and alcohol! But through diligent guidance and discipline, we've reformed him into a paragon of virtue; dedicated to making his man happy and satisfied in all respects..." I move my hand to your arse, pinch a weal, making you moan._

“ _God_... yes, I see -“ I breathe, shivering as your hand moves over my arse possessively. “A paragon of virtue...” I move my hips, feeling my already hardening cock press against yours.

_"We have good hopes of continuing our regimen once he's back..." I whisper. "We're confident that our subject will respond splendidly to sustained discipline. Having him on his knees every day, to suck, to be fucked, to be whipped, or all three, will do wonders for his conduct, just you wait and see..."_

_Fuck_... “What an excellent plan, Sir,” I groan, my hand tightening on your hip. “Your subject would like to request... one more time... please...”

_Yes, I want to... I want to hear you moan, want to see you kneel..._

_What can I do - your arse is out of the question; it would start bleeding after two slaps - but your back can withstand a bit of whipping, as well as the back of your thighs._

_"I think that's a good idea... give him something to remember me by."_

_I get up, take up the belt._

_"Lie flat on your front, my love..."_

I nearly sag with relief and obediently lie down.

I need this... I don’t think I’ll have the strength to leave without it...

“Ready?” you ask in a soft purr.

My eyelids flutter shut. “Always,” I whisper.

_You're so incredibly beautiful lying there - your face looks so peaceful, so happy - like this is where you want to be, where you feel most at ease, most at home - under my lash._

_"I love you Sebastian - so much -" I say, my throat squeezing tight - and I let the belt fly, laying a welt on your shoulders._

I flinch at the sharp pain, and let out a shaky breath. “I love you too...” I murmur, and brace myself.

The lashes land hard and fast over my shoulders and back, biting into my flesh.

By the time you reach my thighs, my eyes are stinging with tears and I’m gasping with each lash.

“Oh god...” I groan. “Jim...”

_You shiver and twitch, but your face looks ecstatic. You want to be in my world, and my world is my pain, and the more you feel my pain, the closer you feel to me... isn't that so, my sweet love..._

_I move down your thighs, then drop the belt, lower myself onto you, feeling the heat of your body underneath me._

_"One more thing, before I fuck you, my love..." I murmur into your ear, giving you goosebumps._

_I get up, put my hands under your feet, move them up, bending your knees ninety degrees, then push the toes down, so the soles are horizontal._

_"Keep them in this position, Sebastian," I instruct, then pick up the cane._

What is this? I think dreamily as you position my legs and feet. Why are you -

_lash_

I hear a sharp cry of pain and surprise, and then realize it came from me... oh _god_ , I think wildly as the pain radiates across my sole. Suddenly the cane comes down on the other foot.

“ _Fuck_ ,“ I shout, breathing raggedly as now both feet are blazing with pain. My eyes close, and I pant as I wait for the next lash.

_"It hurts, I know, my love..." I say soothingly. "But this way, every step you take away from me will hurt - isn't that poetic?"_

_I lash again at both feet._

“Very poetic, oh _fuck_...” I cry out. My eyes widen - I’ve experienced all kinds of pain since meeting you but _this_ is next level...

“Every step - will already hurt - Sir,” I pant, and then howl as the next flare of pain shoots through my feet. Oh Jesus... Jim...

_I know my love... and every step will tear through my heart as well._

_I put down the cane - no need to overdo it - and stroke your thighs, your arse, your back._

_"On your knees, my love..."_

I exhale and bring my legs down gingerly. Rolling over, I wince at the riot of pain that breaks out across my body. But I look up at you and the throbbing and burning seems to recede as I gaze at you. Not breaking eye contact, I move to my knees.

_"On the floor," I gesture. You move down, look up at me, then down at my pelvis. Your tongue licks your lips briefly, not consciously, but it's so sweet, and so hot -_

_I nod, and you move down to take me in._

I let out a small moan of pleasure as I take your cock into my mouth...

Watching your face, I fellate you... my head bobs rhythmically amidst a symphony of pain through my flesh...

yes... Jim... yes...

_You seem to love this as much as you love being whipped by me... as much as I love it. For the thousandth time I wonder what angel sent you to me and why._

_Your mouth feels as divine as ever, but I want to take you - again._

_I take your hair, pull you off. You look at me with large dark eyes, your mouth open, your tongue licking your lips again._

_"I'd like to fuck you again Sebastian... are you up to that?"_

_It would be the third time..._

“God, yes...” I breathe. I have to have my fill, don’t I... nothing but my own hand for the next month, and I’ll be thinking of you each and every time... remembering how you fucked me, remembering how you made me howl and bleed...

I shiver. “Please... fuck me... I want to feel you - _everywhere_...”

_You make me shiver, your words etching themselves onto my heart with tiny sharp needles, and then travelling south..._

_I take you, *take* you, take what's mine, take it into me, take it to heart –_

_and for the third time since we got home last night - for home it is, regardless of whose name is on the mortgage deed - I shudder my heart and soul into you, spilling semen and tears as I dig my fingers into your hips and groan your name, synonymous with all that is good in my world._

I groan loudly as you claim me, fuck me, pound your possession into me... we were starting to explore more intimate sex, slow and sensual lovemaking that left us gasping and crying out in ecstasy... but this morning feels more urgent, like you need to leave your mark on me, and I want that too...

as you thrust into me over and over and over, I shudder at the intoxicating, ever-mounting pleasure... and then you come spectacularly, calling my name... you collapse against me and I think that I could die happy...

_"Sebastian... Sebastian..." I whisper as I lie on top of you, my heart beating against your back, longing to cross the senseless barrier and beat inside you instead. I wish you could take my heart with you so it wouldn't ache..._

_"I love you..." words spoken so easily now; a truth so evident, but still so pleasant to express._

My cock is still hard, but all I can focus on is your body leaning against my back, your heartbeat, your whispered words...

“I love you too, Jim... so much...” I sigh contentedly.

_I will take care of you, my Tiger, but for now I just want to lie here and feel you, commit every detail to memory, so when I lie alone on my mattress I will be able to summon up the feeling of you in every position._

Soon enough, you pull out and we nestle against each other on the bed. I press kisses into your neck and cheeks, breathing you in. “Mmm...” I sigh. “You have the most delicious scent on the planet... I wish I could bottle you...”

_"I wish you could as well. A small bottle, to keep in your pocket, and keep me close and hidden, until it's time to pop out again like a genie..."_

_But first it's time to give you an orgasm you won't forget._

_"One second, Tiger. Hold that thought..."_

_I rush downstairs and grab the coir mat from in front of the kitchen door, take it upstairs. You look puzzled when I lay it on the floor and put a pillow in front of it._

_"Stand on that, my sweet..." I purr, pointing at the mat._

_You step off the bed, put your feet on the bristly mat, wince, hiss. I kneel on the pillow, take your hard cock in my mouth._

Oh Jesus... this really fucking hurts, Jim...

but then you start sucking me off and ohhh god... that’s suuuch a wonderful-weird sensation, you really are a maestro of mixing pleasure and pain - until it merges into a maelstrom of intensity, leaving me panting and moaning loudly...

My face scrunches up as I begin to shudder...

_Oh god... oh Jim..._

_It feels so momentous, this last one, before you leave - there will be so many more in the future, but this one will have to serve you and your right hand for the weeks to come, so once again I do my very best to make you as crazy as I can... moving my mouth, my tongue, using my hands, until your knees are trembling and I'm not sure if you'll be able to keep standing._

I let out a low whine as you continue to play with me, making my muscles weaken and shiver...

“Oh fuck, oh please -“ I groan, and apparently I sound desperate enough that you decide to be merciful - and you begin to fellate me relentlessly.

Oh god, I think, my head falling back and my mouth dropping open. You figured out how to play me like an instrument in _a week_... leaving me bloody and striped, begging and pleading for release... what am I in for when we _live together??_

At this thought, my orgasm erupts, leaving me howling as the pleasure-pain tidal wave crashes over me and through me.

_OhGodOhGodOhGod..._

My knees buckle, and I feel your hands on my hips, steadying me. Then the next thing I know, you’re up and guiding me to fall onto the bed with you. I bounce against the mattress, feeling your arms around me.

“Oh holy fuck...” I gasp. “Long - live - the King...”

_I hold you close, my heart on your chest, feeling your heart racing, slowly calming down._

_That was great, but - I have the feeling that was the last fuck, the last blowjob..._

_*For a month,* I remind myself. *Just a month. Thirty-one days. You can get through it. One day at a time...*_

_We lie in silence for a bit, your hand on mine, my forehead against your head, just soaking up the bliss of each other's presence._

I have strange thoughts as the morning progresses... if we don’t get up, I won’t have to leave. If we don’t have breakfast, I won’t have to leave... as if we could make the world stop just by refusing to leave our bed. Only thing is - it’s the Fitzsimonses’ bed. And I suspect they’ll notice when they get home if we’re still in it.

So eventually, we do get up and we do have breakfast... then we carefully clean up the kitchen and remove all traces of our breakfast foods.

Next we shower together... blissfully bathing each other and shampooing each other’s hair... before cleaning up the bathroom and throwing the towels and bathmats in the washing machine, along with sheets and pillowcases.

It’s a strange process of having the ‘last’ of everything, and then doing away with all evidence of it.

As we wait for the laundry to wash and dry, we lay together in our pants on the unmade bed - not ready to get dressed.

If I refuse to get dressed, I won’t have to leave, I think to myself, breathing in your scent.

But when we finally get up to move the laundry into the dryer, you go to put your t-shirt on. I move my hand to your arm, stopping you.

You look at me quizzically, and I hand you my Ramones t-shirt.

_I look at your shirt. It's big, but - "You want me to wear that?"_

“I was going to ask for yours, so I could take your scent with me... since I can’t bottle you,” I smile sadly.

You slide the t-shirt over your head - definitely big. But you don’t seem to mind.

You look at your own t-shirt dubiously, and I laugh.

“No, I don’t think it’ll fit. I’ll just wear my shirt, and take yours with me...” I pull on my jeans, then slide my khaki shirt over my shoulders and arms. As I’m about to button it, you make a sound. I pause and look up. You’re staring at me, standing silently - wearing only pants and my Ramones t-shirt.

“Stop,” you order. “I need to feel your skin a bit longer...”

I look over at the love seat - we’ve barely used it, preferring to be in bed. But maybe this will make things easier... I go sit down, leaning against the armrest. Then I open up my arms.

_I climb onto the seat, lean over you, kiss your neck, smell you - what a good idea, exchanging t-shirts. I will sleep with it every night, and maybe it will trick my dreams into thinking you're there with me, holding me; will kiss me when I wake up, will make me breakfast..._

_You hold me close, breathe me in deeply._

Eventually I start feeling a familiar itch, and I fish in my pocket for fags and a lighter. I snag a decorative piece of pottery from a nearby side table - there’s no way I’m getting up to grab the ashtray.

Instead I reposition myself so I’m propped up against the armrest - you quickly melt into the perfect you-shaped spot, as you’re wont to do - in between my legs, sprawled over me and rubbing against me.

“You’re so like a cat...” I grin. “And yet you still resist me calling you Kitten...”

“I don’t _resist,”_ you say loftily. “I _deny_ you calling me Kitten...”

Deny all you like, you adorable monster... I smirk at you as I light my cigarette and inhale the smoke. Then I pass it over to you.

_I take in the smoke, which somehow tastes of you, and thus much better than any other cigarette on earth._

_We slowly pass it back and forth, then reluctantly extinguish it. I pull your t-shirt over my head. You look puzzled -_

_"I don't want to wear it and have it smell of me - I'll do what you do, just wear my jacket." I point to my sports jacket, roll up the Ramones t-shirt, put it into a bag. You get up off the seat, and slowly, reluctantly, we finish dressing._

_"Don't worry about that," I say as you make to clean up the ashes. "I'll come back to clean - wipe all the fingerprints and stuff."_

_You put your arm around me and we stare at the baroque room that's been home - that will always be home, somehow._

_I blink to clear my eyes as we walk downstairs._

“We should really send them a fruit basket for our anniversary,” I murmur, kissing your hair. “Every year. They were like fairy godparents... if Cinderella and the prince were gay juvenile delinquents. Which would of course be the superior fairy tale...”

“Of _course,_ darling,” you say crisply. You’re fighting to keep from getting emotional, I know. I have no idea how I’m managing to keep it together - except that I’ve been ordering myself to stay strong for you every time I start tearing up, and it seems to be working. For the moment...

“I-“

Shit. I’m at a loss for words. _Say_ something...

“I don’t- know how to go,” I say brokenly. “How am I supposed to go??”

Oh good... that will make it easier on him...

_Oh no Sebastian don't -_

_My throat closes up, my eyes get blurry; I swallow and swallow but it won't go down -_

_"I - don't know," I say in a tight voice that I don't recognize as my own. "I don't know - I can't - I don't want you to go; I know you have to, but it's so hard... I know we'll be alright and it's only a month, but a month seems so incredibly long..."_

_And the tears start flowing, and my breath convulsing, and your arms are around me and I *try*, I really *try*, but I am already crying and I feel your body shuddering as well..._

“Oh no Jim, I’m so sorry... I’m _so sorry_ ,” I say in a raw, wavering voice. “I’ve been trying so h-hard to be strong, but I was w-worried you’d think - I _didn’t care_ -“ my voice breaks, and we’re both weeping as we sway, holding each other up.

“You know I love you, right? More than - anything...” I say helplessly, as I swipe at the tears that won’t stop streaming...

_"I know," I hiccup, "I know. And - it's already Tuesday, yeah? I'll call you on Saturday - I'll call you - we can talk to each other... I'll call you at two. Only four days..." I weep._

“Call me collect, remember... I’ll be waiting for you...” I sniffle. “And - you c-can call collect anytime if you need me - if I don’t pick up the phone, then... either hang up or... pretend you’re Victoria,” I laugh through my tears. “Feel free to lay it on thick... in a month they’re going to think she’s bonkers anyway...” I smile, my heart feeling lighter.

_"Maybe - I could call you on Thursday?" That's only two days! You can do two days, can't you Jimmy? "Just because it's the first week? And I will want to know you got home safe? I don't think I can do a convincing Victoria... but I could call at two, and you could be there to pick up?"_

My heart melts as I look at your hopeful face. God, you’re _so sweet..._

“I will be there to pick up,” I assure you, beaming and wiping my eyes. “And then - you can tell me when you want to call next, whether it’s a week or a day or two bloody hours... and I’ll be there to pick up...”

I hold your hands up and kiss them both. Then I spot your gleaming ring, and I rub my thumb over it in a daze. God... a week since we met and I gave you a ring. Utter madness, yes. But I know in my bones - you’re the one for me for always.

“You’re the one, Jim,” I whisper, and kiss your lips.

_“Oh God Seb...” I swallow. “And you... and you... I don’t care what anyone says, about being too young - we’re much more mature than most adults. And - what I said to Victoria is true - this doesn’t happen twice in a lifetime. We’re just lucky...”_

_I hold you as close as I can, then reluctantly, slowly, release you._

_“I... I do want to walk you to the bus stop, but I don’t think I could keep from crying...”_

My throat threatens to close... oh god...

“I - understand...” I murmur.

And I do... as difficult as the trudge from the house will be by myself, at least my goodbye to you will be in privacy...

I stare at you helplessly.

_Oh god. Oh god it's here. You're leaving. Leaving..._

_Jimmy. Stop being overdramatic. It's just a month. Thirty-one days. You can do thirty-one days. And you'll speak to him in two days. Hear his beautiful voice..._

_... from a telephone, when he himself is across the sea... on a different land mass..._

_I swallow, swallow again._

_"I love you Sebastian. I'll miss you every second you're gone. And when you come back... I'll hopefully have found us a place, less good than this, but without junkies... and I'll have cut the smack. It's going to be great..."_

_I hug you, kiss you, kiss your tears, and you kiss mine, and we're going to have to let go..._

When you let me go, seeing your sad face nearly sends me cascading into tears again.

You were going to be strong, Moran - remember?

We can’t keep doing this, it’s just going to get harder and I’ll still have to leave...

“I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss you...” I say mournfully. “I’m so sorry I’m leaving... But it’s so we can have a future. And I don’t care where I live as long as you’re there.” I take your hand and kiss it again. “Fuck. We can do this. In other eras, in times of war - people used to be separated for so much longer... months... _years..._ before you know it, we’ll be together again.” I smile at you bravely.

I feel a throbbing sensation in my abdomen - like the tether between us is already being drawn tighter...

I step back, still holding your hand - and then letting it go.

_It's like a strip of skin is being ripped off._

_I keep swallowing, telling myself I'll burst into tears when you're outside... not now; don't make it harder on him..._

_You're right, of course - people have been separated for way longer in way crueller ways - at least we're able to be together in just a month - such a minimal stretch of time, so insignificant in the long run._

_"I'll call you the day after tomorrow. Two o'clock. I love you -_

_I love you..."_

_You open the door._

_Step through. Your shape silhouetted against the light._

“I’ll talk to you _soon_ Jim; I can’t wait... I love you so much...”

Nothing I say will make this any better, will it?

“And... when we’re together again, we’ll go on a special date. After we finish - catching up,” I smile tremulously. I already know there’s some seriously epic reunion sex in our future... but I don’t mention it. Time enough for dirty talk when we’re on the phone, and then together again...

“I _love you_ , Jim...” I press a trembling hand to my lips and hold it in the air. And then with a half-smile, I look at you for another moment before turning away.

“Fuck,” I whisper desperately.

I stuff my hands in my pockets, and I don’t turn around to look at you - because no amount of discipline would keep me from running back and never letting you go.

As I walk, I keep my head down - and I see drops of rain start hitting the pavement.

Yeah... that’s about right, I think as I feel the tether between us stretch farther and farther _. Jim_ , I think sorrowfully as I walk. _JIM..._


	24. The Edge of Heaven

_I stare at the door._

_You were there, a moment ago._

_I look at the place in the hall where you just stood. The air is empty, useless, filling space where you should be. I sniff it but I can't smell you._

_As I breathe out, my shoulders jolt. My throat closes up._

_And I sob my heart out, leaning against the closed harsh hardwood door._

By the time I catch a taxi, the rain is pouring and I’m soaked - which is perfect. The last thing I need is to look like I’m crying. I’m just some bloke in the rain... who’s had his heart torn out, that’s all...

I stare out the window, feeling sad and guilty and sniffling behind my hand. The taxi driver looks at me in the rear-view mirror and his eyes widen. I’m not fooling anybody... but I have to get my shit together before I see my parents.

By the time we roll up to the house, I’m breathing deeply. And I’ve managed to stop crying. When I go inside, Mum looks horrified at my dishevelled state and orders me to dry off and change immediately. What difference does it make? I could spend the entire time on the plane soaked to the skin and it wouldn’t feel a tenth as bad as this... a _hundredth_.

I trudge upstairs and pull off my clothes, leaving them in a wet heap. Then I grab my flask. Standing in the room naked and wet, I start pouring whisky down my throat.

_You'll be alright Jimmy... you'll be alright..._

_Countdown has begun. Five minutes down, forty-four thousand six hundred and thirty-five to go. Two thousand eight hundred and twenty until you can call and hear his voice again._

_Fucking hell Jimmy... you got it bad._

_Sebastian, my heart shouts out, and it's all I can do not to run after you, run behind your taxi until you tell him to stop and come out and take me in your arms and to hell with the consequences._

_And the consequences would be hell... come on Jimmy. Thirty-one days until you get your heart's desire. You didn't even know your heart was still capable of desire ten days ago. You should be happy._

_And I will - I will. But right now I feel like my heart has been torn out and I'm left bleeding out of a gaping hole in my chest and there's nothing that can fix me except you._

_I go upstairs, shoot up, doze off in the numbness._

In a daze, I towel off. Cold never bothers me, but I can’t stop shivering... For a second I consider taking a shower to warm up, but - the thought of washing away your scent sets me off crying again. So I drink more and more until the flask is emptied. Luckily, I have loads of experience being somewhat functional while completely plastered. And anyway, my parents are arguing about something downstairs, and given the sounds of it, it will continue throughout the day. Perfect.

I throw on dry clothes and stare at my ring for a long time. Then I take your t-shirt from my jacket pocket and breathe it in deeply... my eyes immediately start tearing up and I wipe the dampness on the threadbare fabric.

I must have been sitting on the floor staring at that t-shirt for nearly an hour when suddenly Mum is calling me to come downstairs. Then a servant is knocking crisply and coming in to pick up my luggage, as if I’m too delicate to carry a suitcase. But all that I care about is my ring and your t-shirt, so I leave him to the rest of it, and shuffle downstairs.

_I decide that today is for wallowing in self-pity and making sure all my memories of you are properly stored and categorized. I use enough smack to keep me reasonably numb and spend a good amount of the day just dozing._

_Tomorrow I’ll deal with reality. Today is for dreaming Sebastian._

Travelling back home is, as expected, a misery. I ignore my parents which is easy enough - they’re still bickering, and continue all the way to the airport. I’m able to completely block them out in First Class, wearing headphones, mindlessly watching films, and drinking steadily. I’m sure they’ve noticed my dark mood and they’ve just chalked it up to being separated from Victoria. They know better than to engage with me when I’m like this...

When I arrive home, it’s amazing how much it’s changed to me. I open the door and stand in the doorway of my bedroom, blinking. Nothing looks like it belongs to my life... my life is with you. But you’re not here...

How does this make any sense??

I feel a note of panic, and push it aside. Then I drop into my bed. Pulling out the t-shirt from my pocket, I breathe it in and close my eyes...

_In the morning I wake with your t-shirt pressed against my face and a sense of doom._

_In moments, the black cold rock drops and fills me with pain._

_I cry softly, clutching your t-shirt, careful not to get snot or tears on it, because I don't want to sully it with my own scent._

_When I can move, I shoot up, and stare at the ceiling for a bit._

_Our ceiling. The ceiling I looked at despondently when you had run off, impatiently when I was waiting for you, in bliss when we were panting side by side after spectacular sex._

_One day gone Moriarty. Only thirty more to go. Tomorrow you can phone him._

_Finally I get up, get dressed. I'll clean the place and go back home. It's no good staying here - everything screams Sebastian._

_At the thought of you, tears begin streaming again, but I let them stream and get to work: hoovering every surface, making the bed with the washed and dried sheets - they look crumpled but I'm not going to iron them; the Fitzsimonses can deal. Then removing everything we brought into the house, wash every surface of the bedroom and bathroom, tidy everything until it's all exactly the way it was when we came in - minus some supplies and the dent in the wall. Sorry._

_It's dull work which suits me fine. It's work for *us* - taking care that we don't get in trouble for the time we spent in this makeshift haven, which softens the bitterness of wiping out the traces of our stay here._

When I wake in the morning, I sense _absence_ \- flashing at me like a red light.

I immediately feel a surge of fear - where could you be?? - and bolt upright in bed. But then - I look around the room and the truth hits me.

You’re not here - because _I left_.

I cover my eyes with my hand, breathing rapidly.

How could I?

How _could_ I??

I need to get back to you... and beg your forgiveness, and never let you go...

I’m already out of bed and starting to pack before the realization dawns on me. I left because I had to... because it was the only way I could escape my parents tracking us down... I know very well my father could contact the authorities to have you taken away as a minor without a guardian. And that’s not even the worst thing that could happen...

My eyes narrow murderously, and I glare at my bedroom door.

No. We continue with the plan.

Unfortunately that means - an entire month without you. I look over at my pillow, and pick up the t-shirt, inhaling your scent... and then fall back into bed, my face already wet with tears.

_With a sigh, I close the Fitzsimonses' door behind me for the last time. I pocket their spare key - they'll probably have the locks changed, but it wouldn't be a good idea to leave the house an easy prey - it would be unfair if they got *properly* burgled._

_I walk to the bus stop, remembering the times I walked you here; get on the bus home._

_It doesn't feel like home. And - it won't be for much longer. I'll try to find a place for the two of us - I may not be able to find one with heat and electricity, but you'll keep me warm. And when you have a job, we can rent a room, and then an apartment. For now, this is fine - I've been here for months; it's a dump, but it has easy access to smack and a heater to crawl up to when I have to sleep without a Tiger._

_My main concern is the money you've given me - if I keep it on me, I'm at risk of losing it if I get robbed, but if I leave it here, my beloved housemates may not be able to resist the temptation. I decide to spread it out, and put a few small notes in a wallet - if I do get mugged, hopefully they'll only take that. I take an old pillowcase and use it to make some inside pockets that I sew into my jacket and some jeans. That and my ability to scare people off should save me... I hope. I don't want to see your face when I have to tell you I lost the money and had to go back to work._

_On the other hand, if I'm not working, I am much less at risk of being robbed - and it gives me plenty of time to look for Georgie._

_I feel a sting of guilt - I haven't looked for him or even thought much of him these past days._

Mum checks on me a couple of times and makes comments that I’m sure are meant to the reassuring. Stuff about how Victoria will appreciate a man who stays strong, and how emotions are far less useful than people think - all of their friends agree... “and prominent psychologists, too!”

I can’t help but laugh at this, so I suppose it did work to cheer me up a little.

She leaves in a huff, saying “Well, just you wait and see, young man!”

But the next time she comes up it’s to tell me that Victoria is calling for me. My heart leaps and I scramble for the phone, thinking it’s you faking a female voice after all.

I trip over my suitcase, and grab at the phone from the floor. “Hello??” I practically shout into the receiver.

“Good lord, Sebastian,” Mum exclaims, closing the door.

“So you did miss me, then?” Victoria asks wryly, and my heart sinks.

“Oh. I thought it might have been -“ I trail off, sighing.

“A carpet cleaning service?” she asks delicately.

“One who asks to speak to the teenage son of the household by name?” I grumble.

“God, Sebastian,” she sighs dramatically. “You need to lighten up. Otherwise you won’t convince me that love is _anything_ to be desired. Not if it makes you mope around like a depressed donkey.”

“Like Eeyore?” I say, idly twisting the phone cord in my hand.

“What? _Oh_. No, I was being polite. I’m telling you not to be such a dreary _ass_ , Sebastian. It’s fecking boring...” she says loftily.

I look at the phone in disbelief and consider hanging up. “Why are you calling, Victoria?” I say through my teeth.

“Laying the groundwork...” she says with relish. “If I’m going to convince them that I’ve gone off the deep end, I need to call you incessantly from the beginning.”

“It’s really not neces-“

“Don’t be daft,” she says cheerfully. “It has to be plausible, or they might see through the ruse... anyway, it’s going to be such fun. And you better take my calls, or I’ll be crying to your Mam - or better yet, your Da,” she giggles madly.

“Yeah, that would last about five seconds,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You think that man is capable of showing compassion?”

“No, but I think you sound like yourself again.” She sounds triumphant. “Now stop being dull and get out of the house. Till tomorrow, Sebastian...”

 _Click_.

I stare at the phone before hanging up. Get out of the house? And do _what?_

I suppose I should buy some booze, and make sure I’m well stocked. I shrug off my sleepwear, and quickly dress in torn jeans, t-shirt, and boots. Then I throw on my jacket, and slip out of my room and down the stairs.

_The others look at me but don't dare ask. They can see I'm upset though. Jenny brings me some food at some point. I thank her, I think. I don't eat it._

I get back from buying whisky and lager, making sure to buy the same brands that we drank together. Then I return to my bedroom, drinking and watching film after film that I’ve already seen a thousand times.

Eventually dinner is brought to me, and I pick at it. I think this is the first time on record I don’t finish a meal when I’m not violently ill. I leave the tray outside my door, and return to bed.

Sometimes I look away from the screen and just gaze around my bedroom in a daze. It looks like something from another era. The era Before Jim... _BJ_ , I think to myself, and smile faintly. And now - AD is After Dublin...

And I realize I don’t see any trace of myself in this room... I don’t feel _my own presence_ here, and it’s messing with my fucking head. How could _this_ have been my life? In the last week with you I’ve lived more than I have in the last few years...

And all I want is to return to you and live again...

The only thing that remotely keeps me going is knowing that you’ll be calling me - _tomorrow_. I drink myself into a stupor watching war films, and to the sound of shouts and explosions I slowly drift off to sleep.

_Time is a strange row of beads following one after another; some transparent, some dark, all dull and meaningless. Like a rosary - definitely the Sorrowful Mysteries._

_One diamond bead is shining up ahead, its distance seemingly constant and insurmountable, until eventually, after a lifetime, almost within reach._

_I head into town at eleven - I need to make sure to find a phone booth that's quiet, unvandalized, where the phone works, and no one will bash on the door demanding I cut it short. Preferably also one that doesn't smell of piss._

I wake up in a panic again - only this time I’m well aware of where you are and where I am. But I have no clue what time it is, and it’s not unheard of for me to wake up in the afternoon. But no - it’s only eleven-thirty. Still - closer to two than I would have liked.

You _are_ going to be able to get to a phone, aren’t you?

And - what the hell am I going to do for two and a half hours??

My stomach growls in response. Right. Barely any dinner last night... I’d better eat something. Wouldn’t want to faint away when I hear your voice... a wavering smile spreads across my face. I miss our banter... I miss - _everything_...

A whimper rises in my throat.

No - crying for 2.5 hours is not an option.

Get the fuck up. Eat. Caffeinate. And prepare yourself, for fuck’s sake... the last thing he needs is to worry about you, I tell myself firmly as I roll out of bed.

In the kitchen, as usual, my attempts to make something for myself are thwarted. I sigh and sit at the table and wait for my scrambled egg, toast, and coffee.

Mum arrives halfway through my breakfast, and seems delighted to see me up and about.

“I told you you’d feel better, dearest,” she says with a pleased smile.

“Well - I’m expecting a call at two... so yes, I’m feeling better,” I say, finishing my coffee. There. I didn’t even lie...

“That’s wonderful, Sebastian...” she says idly, as she looks at the newspaper. “But do consider - it will be several months before Christmas break, when you can see each other again... in the meantime, it’s important to remain strong when you’re apart. No one wants foolish displays of emotion in the name of romance! Oh, they _think_ they do... but what they really need is security and stability. Dependability is key,” she says brightly. “That’s what everyone needs from a partner - especially women. “

Fuck... I don’t know how I don’t stab myself in the hand with a fork just to have something else to focus on.

“No foolish displays of emotion to Victoria,” I say cheerfully and raise my coffee cup. “I will do my very best...”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” she says, and gives me a sunny smile before slipping away. I glance at the clock - twelve-thirty. I finish breakfast, and return quickly to my room to wait.

_I've found my phone booth, with two backup phone booths for if someone starts using that one. Unlikely - this is a quiet area._

_Now it's ten to twelve, and I have to find something to do with myself for two hours._

_I could get something to eat I suppose - I'm not hungry but I probably should keep my strength up._

_I get to a café, have some breakfast - it doesn't compare to one of yours, of course. Read all the newspapers on offer. And the magazines._

_Walk around. Look at shops and houses. Scan if there are any empty that might be squattable. Don't find any._

_Finally it's five to two. Surely you'd pick up if I called now?_

_Come on Jimmy. You can wait five more minutes._

_Three to two. "Collect call to this number in England, please..."_

I sit at my desk and stare from the phone to the clock and back again... god, this is so unlike me. You've changed _everything_...

Earlier the phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was just a mate, looking to see if I was back yet - and if I wanted to meet up later at a gathering. I told him I'd have to let him know. I have no idea what I'll be feeling later... if I'll want nothing to do with socializing, or if I'll need to get out of the house just to keep from losing my mind...

BRRRINNGG

I jump, my heart in my throat...

"Hello?" I ask in a low voice.

A crisp voice fills my ear. "This is a collect call from Jim."

When I hear your name, my hand flies to my mouth, and I stifle a sob.

"Do you accept the-"

"Yes!! I accept," I say hoarsely. "Jim??"

_A click._

_"-im??"_

_"Sebastian!"_

"Oh my god..."

My eyes close, and I take a shaky breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Jim, I've missed you so much... it felt like an _eternity_..."

_"It *was* an eternity," I confirm._

_"Seb..." my eyes are filling up - fuck - see, that's why I wanted a quiet phonebooth..._

_"I miss you... it's so empty here without you... but it's so good to hear your voice..."_

_It's only now I allow myself to realize that I was afraid you wouldn't pick up - would have changed your mind..._

Oh god... you're crying, aren't you... how will I keep from crying if you are?

"God, there's just - nothing for me here. _Nothing,_ " I sniffle. "It's like a stranger was here before me... I didn't come to life until I met you..."

_You’re so - sweet -_

_“Two days gone already,” I say, bravely. “They took so long though... but we did it. And we’ll do the other ones too. One at a time...”_

_Talk about something, Seb - let me hear your voice..._

_“How was the trip?”_

I heave a sigh. "Fucking horrid. Mum and His Lordship were bickering the entire time, but at least they weren't paying attention to me. And Mum's been full of all kinds of useful advice for me, like showing that I'm strong, and 'not giving in to displays of emotion'... apparently it will _put off my betrothed,"_ I say in the most sarcastic posh voice imaginable. "Thank heavens I'm a stoic aristocrat and I know that emotions are for silly creatures. I certainly haven't been crying over you like a shepherdess who's lost her lamb... " I laugh as the tears start flowing again.

_"I have to say, I'm immensely put off..." I giggle through my tears. "Here I was hoping for a breezy 'Jim who?' - if you could even be asked to come to the phone._

_I do feel sorry for your posh girls, if that's how they're wooed... give me a crying shepherdess any day."_

I laugh again, trying to keep it from turning into sobbing. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never wooed anyone... except for a little thief who fascinated me. He was rather skittish, and I had to be very careful not to scare him off... I just had to keep demanding when I could see him again...” I chuckle, remembering. “He tried to steal my wallet... but in the end, he made off with my heart... and now I have to come back for it. Or I’ll never be whole again...”

_Oh god you're too sweet you're too sweet... stop it or I'll just be a puddle of tears in the bottom of a Dublin phone booth._

_"Yeah well you took the thief's heart - I mean, yours is better, certainly, but the thief wasn't aware he had a heart for the taking until you stole it and showed it to him... so thank you."_

“For leaving us both weepy messes in exile from our hearts?” I sniffle. “I can’t believe I came up with this plan... and now we have to live with it. It’s even harder than I thought it would be,” I sigh and blow my nose into a tissue. “God... Jim... I can’t stop imagining us in our apartment - cooking together... waking up late at the weekend... and...” I twist the phone cord in my hand. “Not getting out of bed - for _hours_...” I murmur.

_"Sebastian Moran, if you're going to get me arrested for touching myself in a public phone booth..." I smile._

_Fuck... I miss that too._

_"I miss the sex - but I also miss just holding you and kissing..."_

_I look down at the phone books._

_"Did you know that that time in the Bunker - that was my very first kiss?"_

My mouth forms an ‘o’ of surprise. “No...” I say, stunned. “I didn’t know...”

But it makes sense... given your history, your age, what you did to survive... you had bigger things on your mind than hooking up.

I was your first kiss... Oh Jim...

“Wow... I certainly couldn’t tell. You’re such a good kisser... you left me weak in the knees,” I smile, suddenly feeling flushed.

_Oh..._

_"Thank you," I smile. "Same here... I always wondered what the point was to kissing - it seemed such a silly thing to do. Until it happened... and it was all it was hyped up to be, and so much more..."_

_The memory of that first kiss, so bewildering, so bewitching..._

_"I must kiss you every day when you're back here, Sebastian."_

"if you don't, you'll have some serious moping to contend with..." I warn playfully.

You chuckle, and then there's a pause. Shit - I need to keep you on the phone for longer...

"What have you been doing the last couple of days? Staying safe, I hope?"

_"Yes, mam," I chuckle. "I thoroughly cleaned the Fitzsimonses' place, made sure every trace of our little honeymoon existence is gone - except for *someone's* dent in the wall. Went back to the flat. Tried to sleep. Couldn't really eat. The rest haven't been asking - I guess they must think you've left me or something, for all my moping. But I'm fine - I am. I've been indulging in self-pity a bit, but I will get it together. I'll go look at St Francis' tonight - one of the children's homes. See if I can find anything out about Georgie."_

I breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're fine... and I hope you find something useful... You'll be careful, yeah? I know you will... but I still have to say it as your boyfriend..." My heart glows at the thought. "God. I only need to say that a hundred million more times to get used to it..." I murmur, looking at my ring.

"I'm looking at my ring right now...my Jim..." I whisper into the phone, filled with longing for you.

_I raise my hand, look at my own ring, safely on my middle finger. It could still fall off, in theory, so I keep checking it's there. I pull it off, look at the S inside._

_"Me too... that was so, so sweet of you - I can't believe you did that -" Tears are filling my eyes again._

_"it's the most beautiful thing that's anyone's ever given me. Hands down. I will always cherish it..."_

I close my eyes, grasping the phone. “God, Jim... this really is harder than I thought... when will you call again?” I ask, trying to stifle the note of pleading in my voice. God... maybe Mum has a point. I don’t want you to think I’m a clingy wreck...

_“When you want... Saturday? Tomorrow?”_

I want to shout _Oh god, Jim! Every day!_

But I don’t want to put you out...

And I don’t want you to think I’m needy or desperate... (thanks Mum for putting that in my head...)

“I mean, maybe it will get easier...” (it _won’t!)_ “- but at the beginning at least...” I trail off and swallow hard. “In a couple of days? Is that alright?”

_"Yeah - yeah, let's do Saturday; that was the original plan, right?"_

_You can do Saturday Jimmy. Only two days. And tonight you're looking for Georgie - that will distract you from pining for your love - fuck's sake. You've hardly thought about your brother. Selfish little git._

_"It's all going to be much easier when you're here..."_

I sag with relief. Two days. I can do two days...

“Easier... saner... Nothing makes sense here... I just want to be with you again...” I sigh. “We can do this. It’s helped so much hearing your voice...”

I pause. God, I’ve been so focused on me...

“What about you, my love... Are you feeling any better?”

_"I don't know... yes, hearing your voice - so much... but I still - miss you so much. But - it's kind of - it was worse before? It was so long waiting for you when you were at the ball, I thought I'd *never* manage a whole month; but now we've done two days. It's like - there is still so much to come, but two days was already unthinkable, and we managed. So we just need to manage this same thing, fourteen times more. It seems - something that can be done. Sorry, do I make sense?"_

I smile as I listen to you approach the problem mathematically...

"Perfect sense..."

Just like everything about you is perfect...

"You're right... we got through this. We can just do it again and again until I'm back. Honestly, the idea of talking once a week was so distressing... if we can talk more often, it helps. Only if you want to," I add quickly. Mustn't cling...

_"Yes - yes, if it's no problem - when are you going to Eton?"_

I think for a moment. "Usually I go up a week before school starts, to get away from Lord Fuckhead. But - I want to be able to talk to you for as long as possible, and it's easier to get collect calls at home... so I'll just go up the Sunday before school starts. Third of September..."

_It's 10 August now - "And when were you thinking of - leaving?"_

"The first weekend. End of day Friday. I just need to book a flight..." my heart starts racing. "I'll make the arrangements, so I can tell you the time when we talk next..." My spirits begin to lift.

"Jim... we'll know the exact date and time when we can be together again. We can start planning where to meet..."

_Oh god -_

_I feel my knees start to shake - oh god I will be able to literally count the days - I had the eighth in my mind because it's a month from Tuesday, but knowing that you'll actually be here on the eighth - or maybe the ninth, but actually knowing the day and the date and the time and the flight number..._

_"I'll go to the airport - I'll meet you at the airport, maybe I'll even carry a sign -" I laugh._

My heart is about to burst. "You are _so sweet_..." I laugh, feeling flushed. Jesus...

"Oh god, I feel better already..."

_"Me too," I laugh, "me too..."_

_"So..." I sober up, "how long can we - talk? I mean - Victoria wouldn't call collect, so - how are you going to explain the phone bill? Not that I want to go, but - I don't want you to get into trouble..."_

"Right..." I hadn't thought of that. "They really don't pay attention to that kind of thing... I doubt they've ever really looked at a phone bill. It's why Lord Moran is always getting into financial trouble, and then having to do god knows what to make things better again. Anyway, the phone bill might be exorbitant, but - by the time they realize it, I'll be long gone, right?"

_Oh yes - phone bills come way after the end of the month that the calls were made in. Of course. Phew._

_"Right, then... I don't feel bad about putting Lord Moran into debt with British Telecom. So - what are your plans for the coming two days?"_

"I'm probably going to go out with a couple of friends... honestly, if I have to sit in this room for a month, I'll go off the deep end..." There's a pause, and I twist the phone cord again, feeling strangely nervous. "But I don't want you to worry, Jim... there will be plenty of drinking, I'm sure. But I won't be touching anyone, I promise... All I can think about is you..."

_Poor guy... going stir-crazy in his house with that man..._

_Oh - oh my sweetheart, do you think I'd worry?_

_Well - I have been jealous - but no, I don't think - you are so clearly and proudly mine._

_"I know, my love, I know... I miss you, but I don't worry about you going off with others... I mean - it would only be a letdown," I chuckle, braver than I feel._

I exhale with relief. "Of course it would be... like going to the most sumptuous feast and then afterwards being offered -" I think for a moment. "I dunno. A scone. The last thing I'd want when I'm dreaming of the next feast... I can picture it very clearly... I'll devour your lips first, and then make my way down from there," I murmur, closing my eyes.

_Oh - oh we're doing this? In a public phonebooth?_

_Fuck it. You can do this Jimmy. Just stay very still outwardly and record it all for later enjoyment._

_"Oh yes? Will you undress me?"_

I laugh low in my throat. “Oh... of course... I’ll pull you into my lap, and reacquaint myself with your delectable lips... I’ll take off your shoes and your shirt... mmnh, and then I’ll have all that delicious skin to taste...”

_Mmmmm... "What about you? I want to feel your bare skin too... take off those clothes for me. Let me watch..."_

“Oh I will...” I say in a low purr. “Can you see me doing it now? Sliding off my shirt, and pulling you against me? Kissing your neck... biting it...”

_I’m starting to breathe heavier - closing my eyes, I can picture you all too clearly._

_“We shouldn’t do this... I’m in a phone booth... fuck I want you Sebastian. I want you... when you get back I’ll chain you to a bed and not let you go for at least a week...”_

My hand had been creeping towards my cock. When you speak, my eyes fly open and my hand stops its sly advance.

Feeling flushed and rueful, I take in a shaky breath. “I want you, too... being chained to your bed sounds-“ I exhale. “Fuck. I _want it.“_

_I want you so much it *hurts*... my entire body is aching. You're an addiction and the withdrawal is like the smack - I'm sick, love-sick..._

_"Fuck Seb I miss you..."_

"God..." I sigh. "I miss you so much it hurts... I wish I could just talk to you for the rest of the day, but I know you're at a phone booth. What are you doing today?"

_"Nothing much... like I said, go to the children's home tonight - maybe try to sleep a bit beforehand, so I'm awake and alert. You?"_

Oh right... you already told me that. Fuck, I’m just clinging to reasons to keep you on the phone at this point. But it’s not the same for you, being stuck at a phone booth...

“I guess I will go out to see my mates...” I sigh. “It’s that or drink in my room and feel sorry for myself...”

_I feel a stab of jealousy at your mates... who will get to hang out with you, while I'm stuck here._

_And that you have mates... I know I've never really seen the point of friends, but having people who could distract me would be very welcome right now._

_"I hope you have a good time..."_

_My heart plunges at the thought of hanging up._

There’s a despondency to your voice, and then a lengthy silence.

“Jim?”

Why aren’t you saying anything?? For a panicked moment, I think you’re going to hang up on me.

“Jim?? I’m not going out to _have a good time_... I’m trying to keep from _cracking!”_ My voice wavers, and I fight to keep the tears at bay.

_"Oh - no; no sorry Seb, that wasn't - I didn't mean that I don't want you to have a good time. I do! I really do. I mean - I know it's not going to be great; and I know you miss me; and I'm glad that you will have something to distract you, rather than you going mad alone in your room. I don't want you to._

_I was just - I was dreading ending the conversation, and having to wait another two whole days to hear your voice..."_

I cover my eyes with my hand, breathe in deeply. No more crying, Moran...

“Yeah,” I sniffle. “I know the feeling.”

I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, until it feels like the moment has passed. Then I lower my hands and sigh.

“Sorry... just trying to keep it together. And there’s a crying shepherdess that keeps coming in here and distracting me... daft cow...”

_"A shepherdess with a cow? What's the feminine of cowherd?" I consult my mental copy of the OED. "Oh - cowherdess. Makes sense. Rare though._

_Anyway... don't cry my love... we'll speak again in two days... and you can tell me if you had fun with your friends, and I can tell you if I had any luck at the kids' home. And I *do* want you to have fun, my sweet Tiger. Don't feel like - like you shouldn't have fun without me. You really should. You're the sweetest person in the world and you deserve to be happy..."_

Tears threaten to escape again and then spill onto my cheeks. “Jesus... You can’t say things like that and expect the shepherdess to leave me alone - or the cowherdess or whatever the fuck...” I smile through my tears. “Thank you for understanding. But _you’re_ what makes me happy. And I expect the only times I’ll be happy in the next month are when I’m talking to you, or thinking about seeing you again... and not having to leave.” I sniffle. “But as much as I could talk to you for hours, I guess you probably have to go...”

_Yes, I guess I have... I don't want to, but I can't stay here talking for hours. Can I? Can't I?_

_It's not fair, Jimmy, let the boy go. Let him go with his mates and get distracted for a bit. You have your own distraction, in your pocket..._

_Agonizing hours before I can take it though... and I'm *not* giving in to the little voice whispering in my head that I could take just a bit now, that there are extenuating circumstances... if I listen to that voice I'm dead in the gutter in a month._

_"I guess... I love you, Sebastian. Not long... not long, my love..."_

“I know... not long...” I echo, trying to convince myself this was true. But every day is an eternity without you, and this feels _fucking impossible_...

I shut my eyes. “I love you... more than anything...” I breathe.

_Oh god every word you utter is balm upon my soul and tears my heart apart..._

_"I love you too, Sebastian... so much... I'll call you on Saturday, at two again, yeah? Only two days... I love you..."_

“I love you, Jim...” I murmur. “Saturday at two, yes. I can’t wait, Jim... I love you...”

_"I love you..."_

_How do you do this? How do you end a conversation like this?_

I smile faintly at our ridiculous back-and-forth volley of _I love you_ ’s. “Are we going to do the ‘You hang up, no you hang up’ routine?” I chuckle.

_"I don't know, are we?" I smile through my tears._

_Then I steel myself. Just two days, Jimmy. Less than 48 hours._

_"I'll hang up, then. I love you, Sebastian... speak to you very, very soon. Don't forget me..."_

I laugh in amazement at this. “Forget _you_ , Jim? Like I _could??_ Not in a million years! I love you... Be safe. Goodbye, my love. My King.”

_My heart does a weird manoeuvre where it shrinks and expands at the same time. It's both delightful and excruciating._

_"Goodbye, my brave Knight..." I whisper-croak, and hang up._

_I stare at the phone. My lifeline. At any time, I can pick it up and call London, try to pretend to be Victoria calling collect for whatever reason - she's in town, had a fall, she's fine, just startled, and she wants to talk to Sebastian to comfort her - that's why her voice sounds funny, she's sniffling through a handkerchief, and the line isn't very good..._

_It makes me feel slightly better. I *can* reach you, at any time - unless you're out with your friends, of course, but even then - a Victoria who's upset, crying, is bound to get Lady Moran worked up enough to try to find you and get you to call back immediately. Next time we speak I should remember to ask you to tell your mum where you're going in case Victoria calls..._

_No - what am I thinking. Ridiculous, Jimmy Moriarty. You can survive without speaking to him for a few hours._

_But - knowing that I *could* call at any time, and have an excuse I can probably pull off, does hearten me._

_I stare at the receiver for a few more seconds, the sacred vessel that held your voice... a small part of me keeps hoping it will start ringing and reconnect me with you; but it *could*, it could if I really needed it. I pat the thick plastic, and breathe in deeply. Ready to leave the phone booth and face Dublin again... sort of._

_Click_.

You did it. I don’t think I could have done it...

“My majestic, beautiful King...” I whisper, and hold the phone against my cheek, listening to the blaring of the dial tone.

I hang up, expecting to feel devastating loss. But instead I feel lighter. It did me so much good to hear your voice... I’m so glad we decided on two days from now. I think I can do this, if I hear from you so often...

I look at the time, and pick up the phone again. Then I dial my mate Liam’s number and wait for his voice to greet me.

“Mate... It’s Seb.”

“Basher! You joining us tonight then?”

“May as well... whose house?” I listen to the details, and tell him I’ll meet him at seven. Now I only have four hours to kill before I need to get ready and leave...

I lie back in bed, and remember your voice reverberating through the phone, with a shiver. Then I start thinking of your face and your body... and the hot moments we shared... and the next thing I know, I’m kicking off my jeans and pulling down my pants, and having a wank. By the time I come, I’m gasping... quivering all over... and moaning your name.

_I head home, try to have a doze in the back room, but am not very successful. If only I could sleep until you're back..._

_I end up reading the same page of my book over and over again, until I throw it against the wall in exasperation. I'll go for a run... maybe it will tire me, and I should try to get fitter anyway._

_When I come back, it's still only four pm. Two hours before I can take my next dose of smack... I yearn for it, not because I'm suffering much pain or anything, but just to stave off the boredom._

_What did I use to do? Read books... walk the streets in search of an opportunity to make money, and to see if I chanced to spot Georgie somewhere, coming home from school... spend time in my mind map, trying to make connections, solve mathematical equations..._

_I can't imagine how I was ever invested in any of that. Well, except for Georgie. And the money. But I have money._

_Come on Moriarty. You can't think of Sebastian Moran 24/7._

_Maybe I should try a different book..._

At Liam’s house it’s the same old thing... as if no time has passed.

Although I suppose only a little over a week has passed in their eyes.

For me it was a lifetime...

They’re sitting around in a grand room of a grand manor where parents are nowhere to be found. Drinking and laughing and stroking their egos, and it all seems so fucking _pointless_.

Liam is a pretty good guy, but ultimately everyone is just doing what their parents did before them, which is what _their_ parents did before them, _ad infinitum_. Nobody seems to want anything different out of life, despite their shows of defiance. They sure as fuck wouldn’t understand what I’m going to give up, and why.

So nobody hears a peep about it from me. It just feels good to be in a place for a while where I don’t have to feel or think - but throughout the drinking and laughter and endless piss-taking, I’m very aware of the emptiness and longing within me... and that no amount of drink would ever fill such a chasm.

_When six o'clock finally comes, I take my shot and have a doze for several hours, drifting in and out of pleasant Sebastian-inhabited reveries, aided by your Ramones t-shirt which I cuddle to my face._

_At one point I open my eyes and see you sitting on the mattress - wait - when did you come in?! How are you here?!_

_"I couldn't miss you any longer, Jim..." you smile. "I had to see you..."_

_You reach out your arms and I swear I *feel* you, feel your strong warm hands slide up the arms I stretch out to you, reach my shoulders, stroke my back..._

_but when I next wake you aren't here. Of course - you couldn't have -_

_but it felt so real..._

Eventually a few girls show up, are offered drinks.

Two girls head straight for me - they sit on the sofa and start flipping their hair, staring up at me through their lashes... and trying to compete for my attention.

Jesus... was it always _this_ obvious? I barely even thought of it before... there were always just drinks and drugs and sex to be had...

Until all I cared about was you...

I get up from the sofa, go and flip through CDs. Nothing here I want to listen to... inevitably I start thinking of the music we danced to...

But my reverie is interrupted when I realize the two girls are staring at me from the sofa in indignation. Oops.

I seek out Liam, make a completely lame excuse for leaving early - headache. Like that would have stopped me before.

And once again, I’m thinking of you and the excuses told you I had thought up for leaving the ball early...

Liam seems surprised but wishes me well - and off I go. The girls seek out someone who will give them the attention and validation they want. I hear the room awash with shouts and laughter as I leave. I don’t belong. I never belonged.

I don’t bother calling a cab, I just shove my hands in my pockets and walk into the night.

I don’t know how much time passes before I get home, but I fall into bed fully dressed, and drop into dreamless sleep.

_At midnight, I get dressed in dark clothes and walk to St Francis'. When I arrive it's past one and the night is cloudy but dry and silent, which is perfect._

_It's easy to work out where the office is - the blinds aren't drawn and I can see a computer and filing cabinets. I walk around the perimeter of the grounds - it looks like there's no alarm. Also, the complete building is quiet. Right. Off we go._

_It seems almost like I have more to risk, now. Where before it was essential not to be caught because I'd be locked away forever (not too much of a concern) and would never see Georgie again (very much a concern), now my fears are doubled because I'd not see you any more either... and you would have no idea where I was; until god knows when I could get a message out. No - Jimmy Moriarty will *not* be caught._

_I quietly and carefully pick the lock of the side door closest to the office, make my way in. Pick the lock of the office. Find the keys to the filing cabinet. I look at the computer... I should probably learn to work one of those. How difficult can it be?_

_Files first. Kids' files are in the second drawer. My heart beats loudly as I make my way. McCarthy... Moran - that gives me a start -_

_Moroney._

_No Moriarty._

_I swallow. Of course not. You know how small the chances are, Jimmy..._

_No Regan either._

_Right. Two down, seventeen to go. You will get there, Jim. Just keep breathing. Keep being careful. You *will* find him._

_I do a quick sweep of the rest of the office, but there's nothing useful. Carefully I make sure to leave everything as I found it - I don't need money, so it's best if they don't realize anyone's been here at all. Too many break-ins in children's homes gets suspicious._

_I force myself not to cry as I walk back. Blissful oblivion awaits me at home._

The next day goes in much the same way...

Lying around feeling sorry for myself, watching films just to have something to semi-focus on. Victoria calls and prattles at me, and insists that I go out and stop being such a wet blanket - by the end I very nearly shout at her to leave me the fuck alone. Doesn’t she _understand_ I’m upset and nothing’s going to make me feel better? But I manage to remain polite, and end the call without getting too surly.

I do end up going out again. More drinks, more pointless prating, more female attention - and deflecting said attention. People have definitely noticed, and Liam takes it upon himself to tell me so. I confide to him that I met ‘someone’ on holiday, and I’m not in the mood.

He makes a sound - a bit confused, but trying to be supportive. “Bad luck, Basher,” he says, clapping me on the arm. “Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, mate...” He waggles his eyebrows, and I laugh despite myself.

“Sure, if you’ve _broken up_ , mate,” I say, arching an eyebrow. “But we most definitely haven’t.”

He pretends to think and then snaps his fingers. “I’ve got the answer for you! Get over it! I’ve _never_ known you to think twice before sticking your dick in anyone - your sense of judgement is bloody _terrible_ , mate,” he laughs. “Why change now? It’s our _final year_ , Basher - let’s make it count, yeah?”

He slides his arm around me, and gestures at two girls giggling on the sofa and looking at us. “What do you fancy tonight? Red or white?” He grins.

Haha - one has red hair, the other platinum blonde.

“Something darker than what’s on tap... but thanks,” I say with a mysterious smile and get up.

He looks at me, perplexed. “Basher?”

“Enjoy your night,” I say with a wink, and slip out the door. And once again, I find myself walking by myself in the night air, drunk and lonely.

But thinking of you in comparison to those girls... had an impact on me. To realize how not-tempted I am. Not that I was _worried_. I meant what I told you - I wasn’t going to touch anyone else. But maybe I was worried it would be hard to say no.

It _isn’t_... but it’s definitely in danger of getting hard... I adjust my jeans, exhaling. Just a little while longer to get home, Moran... then you can think of him of the pale skin and dark flashing eyes... my little feral creature who likes to bite and scratch. I groan, and adjust myself again. Fuck. Stop thinking of it, Moran...

By the time I get home, I’m desperate - I lope up to my bedroom, and I’m disrobing before I even get to my bed.

I grab my cock and fall into bed, groaning. I rut against the mattress as I stroke myself feverishly. God, I miss you... Jim...

I come with a shout, and turn my head to look at my sticky sheet. I roll over and hug a pillow close to me. Then with a sigh, I close my eyes.

_The next day drags. I'm not going to do a break-in tonight - got to spread them out even if I don't leave traces; and besides, the weekend is not a good time. Too many people about._

_I go to the library and get different types of books to see if anything will capture my interest: maths, astronomy, fantasy, sci-fi, literature, history..._

_'Dune' is kind of interesting, so I get the sequels and spend much of my time reading them, in between heroin-fuelled dreams of Sebastian._

_Unbelievably, Saturday afternoon comes along, and I'm in the same phone booth, my heart racing as I give the operator the number._


	25. Speak

I’m waiting by the phone, looking at the clock. I’m so paranoid that the phone may be off the hook that I go around checking all the ones in the house - thankfully the one in my father’s study is a separate line. He initially had said it was so he wouldn’t have to deal with sniggering schoolchildren - but Christ knows what he gets up to.

I don’t want to know...

Once I’ve checked all the phones, I’m suddenly paranoid that I won’t be near a phone if you call early and someone else will answer... so I rush to my bedroom, scaring a maid when I turn a corner and making her shriek. A pile of laundry goes flying, and my mother looks at me aghast as she comes out into the hallway to see what has transpired.

“Sorry!” I shout and keep running.

“Sebastian, for god’s sake!” I hear her exclaim before I disappear into my room.

Feeling giddy, I jump into bed and stare at the phone again. Any moment now... I’m ready, Jim...

_Several geological eras pass before I hear a click and your voice. "Jim?"_

_My knees go weak, my eyes damp. You are still there. You are still waiting for my call. Four days gone, twenty-seven more to go._

_"Sebastian..."_

“ _Jim_ ,” I breathe. “Was that only _two days?”_ I feel a lump in my throat.

I have to choke back the sobs already rising in my chest, because once I start it will take me forever to stop.

“Oh god... this is so much harder than I thought it would be,” I say, desperation welling up in me. “I’m so stupid... I should never have left...”

_"Sebbie..."_

_No don't -_

_Don't - if you start crying I’ll start crying and then everyone will start crying and the world will drown in tears..._

_"I'm so sorry - it is so hard; you are right - but - we can do it, right? It's for us..."_

_I don't believe a word I say; you are right, you shouldn't have left; you should be here right now; but one of us has to be strong and rational – we can take turns…_

_"Sebastian... we must be sensible; we must stick to the plan... unless you can think of a better plan -"_

_Have you?! Please?!_

I look up at the ceiling, my vision blurring.

“No, I can’t think of a better plan,” I say, my voice sounding raw. “I just hate _this one..._ Fuck...” I swipe at the tears leaking from my eyes.

“I’m sorry...” I mumble. “I keep telling myself to be strong for you, and - you see how well that’s working!” My voice wavers, and I laugh helplessly.

_"Sebastian..." I say, my voice soothing. I can be strong for you, my love..._

_"We've made it through four days; only twenty-seven more. That's just what we lived through so far, eight times. We can do that... it's like - like when you have to study for weeks for school to pass an exam. The grinding is no fun, but you know when you pass that you never have to do it again. We're getting through these horrible days so we'll never have to be apart again. It's a small price to pay, really... we're going to be together every day for years and years... you'll get sick of me yet."_

“I would _never_ ,” I protest, but I’m laughing through my tears. “Unless you were going to...” I pause to think. “Nope. Can’t think of anything. You’re stuck with me,” I grin.

_"I can't wait to be stuck with you... So what have you been up to? Did you have a good time with your friends the other day?"_

“Good time? Not really... Did I stave off an impending meltdown? For an evening, yeah...” I say with a sigh. “And I did the same thing last night... and it all felt _so pointless_. We were mates through school; that’s all. None of them really know me, or know how to handle it when I’m _really_ myself... I don’t fit in with them. And I never did...” I close my eyes again. “The only place I really fit is with you...” I breathe.

_"I know... oh god I know Sebastian... I never felt a connection with anyone, I didn't know I could - until I met you..."_

_I'm breathing carefully, trying not to cry..._

Oh god, you’re getting close to tears again... “I’m so sorry, I just seem to make you feel more sad...” I say, cringing. “I just don’t - I’m not sure what I can talk about besides how much I miss you and how hard this is... because nothing else matters to me.” I rub my eyes sorrowfully. “Tell me - how has your search been going?”

_No sweetheart - don't feel bad - I'm alright - I just want to hear your voice -_

_And - this is probably just selfish, but - hearing how you've missed me and how hard it is is balm for my soul..._

_"My search - yeah - nothing yet," I say, trying to sound brave. "There are a *lot* of children's homes in Dublin... and I don't even know if he is in Dublin. But he probably is - there's no reason to take him away."_

_Unless they are afraid I'll try to turn up and find him after my escape - but they won't. They don't think of children like that, not even me…_

You’re silent... god, this must be so upsetting for you. And I can’t even help you, an entire country away...

“I can help you when I’m back... whatever you need...” I assure you. “But hopefully you’ll find him before then...”

Fuck. Why am I _here_ , when you clearly need me??

“This must be so hard for you...” I say mournfully.

_"It is..." I admit. "But - it helps a lot to know that I'm not alone, you know? It was just me against the world - trying to find my baby brother when everyone was against me. Now I have a Tiger supporting me... and even from England, that makes all the difference. And soon you'll be here..."_

The tension in my chest loosens its grip on me somewhat. Knowing that my presence in your life is helping means s _o much_...

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away...” I assure you. “And you will never be alone again...”

_My hand tightens around the receiver. I didn't realize how lonely I was until I wasn't any more..._

_"Thank you Sebastian... you have done so much for me... you can't realize..."_

“Of course I realize...” I say gently. “You did the same for me...” I smile, even though you can’t see me. But maybe you can sense it when I speak.

“Oh! The flight - I still need to buy my ticket, but I’ll arrive the eighth of September at 19:03...” my heart races at the thought. “And then... we’ll be together again...”

_The eighth of September - the eighth of September 19:03 - the numbers burn into my brain. Get the 41 bus at 17:52 - no, get the 17:32 to be sure…_

_I imagine you walking out with a bag over your shoulder, looking round - your smile when you see me - me running towards you and hugging you which is perfectly fine at an airport - you could be my brother who's been abroad for a year - crying, smiling, holding each other for several minutes, before walking to the bus stop and taking the bus back into town, to whatever place I found for us, holding hands hidden under your bag..._

_"I can't wait. I mean - I will wait. I will count the days, the hours, the minutes... oh god Sebastian -"_

_Somehow hearing the date and time makes it more real._

“I know, Jim...” my breath catches in my throat, and yet again, tears threaten to spill. But no - enough bloody crying, Moran.

I straighten up, sighing.

“What will we have for dinner?” I ask, smiling bravely.

_"Don't expect your usual amenities... I'll be lucky if I can find a place to squat; it probably won't have gas and stuff... so - fish and chips?"_

_“Perfect,”_ I grin. “So we’ll meet at the airport... cry our eyes out... go somewhere private to cry some more and get _reacquainted_... a bit more crying, and then - fish and chips.”

I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes. “I already know it will be the best fish and chips ever...”

_"I know just the place," I grin, looking forward to taking you to Al’s chippie... chatting as we eat our fish and chips at a greasy plastic table... both glowing from our... 'reacquaintance'... smiles on our faces that can't be removed..._

You sound happy... _thank fuck_. I don’t want to hang up, but maybe it’s better to end on a positive note before things get inevitably maudlin and we have a mutual sobfest.

“God... I can’t wait,” I sigh. “So - what will you do for the rest of the day?”

_Saturday... I'd normally go out and try to get punters, but I don't have to, which I have you to thank for. God, Sebastian..._

_"I don't know... I've been reading this series Dune, which is alright. I finished it, but I might get some more sci-fi... it's good to let your mind roam, and they like writing thick tomes."_

“Oh, Dune! Great series,” I enthuse. “Well, the first book was the best... God, Jim - one day we’ll have a bookshelf together...” My heart soars at the thought. Imagining the two of us reading on the sofa. Me looking up at you - you completely transfixed by what you’re reading - me not being able to tear my eyes away - then bringing you tea - munching biscuits and telling each other about what we have been reading. Me telling you about history, you telling me about god knows what topic that I’ll struggle to keep up with - my little genius...

Oh - Jim - there’s nothing I want more...

_"A library!" If you dream, dream big... "A proper one - not like your father probably has, filled with books that look impressive but are never actually read - ours will be full of books piled on desks, sticky notes sticking out of them, with both of us knowing exactly where to find the one volume that tells you the nesting area of the hairy-backed bulbul. We will both have a desk - and a globe - and a computer! And a green reading lamp - I absolutely want a green reading lamp."_

I chuckle as you plan out our future library. “That sounds _perfect_ , baby. _Perfect_. You will absolutely have a green reading lamp, and all the rest...”

_"It's going to be a bit shit at the beginning - but it doesn't matter. I'd rather live in a shed with you than in a palace with anyone else..."_

“Me too,” I sigh. “I don’t care if it’s shit. I just want to be with you...”

_“So what are you planning? Another night of drink and debauchery?”_

“Hadn’t planned that far. S’pose so... It feels better going out than staying here by myself... this place has always felt like a prison,” I say, looking around my room with distaste. “And I’m drinking less than if I stayed at home.” I was a bit worried about my drinking getting out of control, I have to admit. I want to have my shit together when I see you again...

_Why are you talking about your drinking less? Do you think I worry - that would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't it... I smile._

_"Just stay safe, Sebbie... don't you let anything happen to *my property*..." I purr._

“Your property will be pristine, Sir...” I purr back. “All for you to take possession of, and do with as you see fit...”

Oh Christ, I want you...

“Well, if you can’t engage in phone sex in public, I may just have to - let my memories of you get the job done. If it’s alright to touch your property, of course...”

Did I just ask your permission to wank??

_"Oh fuck... yes, you may... but tell me how you're doing it - tell me," I breathe._

“Want me to do it?” I ask with a smile, pulling my shirt off. “You want me to get naked for you?”

My fingers move down to my waistband and pull down the fabric, freeing my cock.

“I haven’t even started, but I’m already getting hard... thinking of you...”

I kick off my jeans, and begin to stroke.

“Thinking of your eyes on me when I take my clothes off... and when I touch myself...” my breath hitches in my throat. “Do you like what you see, my King?”

_I can picture it all so clearly; my brain has recorded you so often, from all angles - I can see what you look like as clearly as if you're here before me, lying on the shelf with the phone books..._

_"Yes, I can see it - you stretched out, your hand on your cock, hardening under my look, because I want it, because you want me..."_

“Mmnh... I do want you...” I say in a husky voice. “I _always_ want you. Even wanking doesn’t feel as good, being away from you - but right now it feels so - fucking - _hot_ because you want me to... want me to perform for you...” I say breathily. “So I’m stroking it nice and firmly for you...”

_I know *exactly* how it feels - have felt it hard under my touch so often - I can just feel it under my fingers now, strong and firm and so sensitive -_

_Oh *god* -_

_My eyes are closed, and I'm breathing shallow, but there's no one around, it's fine; this is a business district that's deserted at the weekend - I'm not going to touch myself in a public phone booth, that's a step too far, but I don't need to worry about anyone looking too closely at me._

_"Tell me... tell me how you are stroking it, how you like it, how you are performing for me... what you wish I would do..."_

Fuck.. it feels so good hearing your voice as I do this...

especially hearing how your breathing has been affected... the rough purr of your voice...

“Mmm, firm but gentle on the upstroke... pulling it slightly... running my thumb over the head... and then -“ I groan as I stroke. “Down - harder - slow and firm, like you touch me - so I can imagine it’s you here - oh god - I like it when you don’t rush, how you make me want it - beg for it -“ I give a strangled laugh, as I push back the rising ecstasy. “So that’s what I’m doing - spreading my legs for you, so you can see - everything -“

_Fuuuuuck - keep it down Moriarty, just record it and play it later, in the privacy of the back room - or maybe even a public toilet, that's nearer - damn, someone should make an opaque phone booth, it would be so popular - and likely filthy, true -_

_I picture you lying there, your balls taut, your hand moving on your cock, up and down - I lick my lips._

_"I wish I was there - could use my mouth on you, digging my nails into your freshly-whipped arse..."_

I moan, and my breath is noticeably quicker when I speak. “God, I want that too... your mouth on me feels like I’ve died and - gone to a pagan heaven... and fuck, I love what you do to my body -“ My movement becomes more emphatic, my voice a velvety growl. “I’m stroking my cock for you - faster – harder - Jim-“

_"Are you going to come for me, Sebastian? Spill your delicious seed for me? Are you going to talk me through it, so I can replay it later, when I'm alone, and I'll be stroking my cock thinking of you?"_

“Ohh, god yes... I’m getting close, Jim,” I breathe. “Can you hear me stroking? It’s all for you... fuck, your voice gets me so hot...”

I think of you touching yourself, and my eyes close. “Just the thought of you... your hand on your beautiful cock... oh - god -“ I pant. “I’m so hard now, it feels so fucking good, I-“

I moan loudly. “Oh fuck, I’m - coming-“

_I am seeing you so clearly - your face when you climax is a thing of supreme beauty -_

_"My Sebastian... oh god I can't wait to have you again..."_

“Jim-“ I manage to choke out, as shivers descend upon me. and then - I’m shaking madly, crying out, dissolving into ecstasy –

_Oh *god* those sounds - my knees are trembling, the recorder in my brain is preserving everything in high detail. I can *see* you, the expression on your face, your eyes screwed shut, your body shuddering as you come in gusts –_

I come back to my body, breathing raggedly and blinking at the ceiling.

“ _God_ , Jim,” I say in a hoarse voice. “That beats any wank I’ve ever had... hands down,” I quip, smiling when I hear you snort.

_"I am not risking it in a public phonebooth, but god, I'm tempted..." I say, my cock really quite desperate to escape, preferably into your hands._

“Mmm...” I say dreamily, and light up a cigarette. “Think of me when you get somewhere private...”

_"Oh don't you worry, I will... I may not make it home, may need to risk a public toilet... fortunately it's Saturday and it's deserted around here. Then if I close my eyes, I will be right there with you..."_

I take a drag from my cigarette and close my eyes, exhaling smoke. “I’ll be thinking of you doing it... dreaming of me,” I murmur.

_"Fuck Sebastian, when I get my hands on you again... You better not make any plans for when you're first over."_

“Plans?” I wave my hand in the air limply. “My only plan is to make up for lost time... I’ll need to kiss and taste every inch of you. And make you come over and over, for days on end. _Then_ I can think about other things like finding a job and a flat... but first things first...”

_"Yes... though I hope we'll have at least a flat or a room. People get so prudish when you do that kind of thing in a public park..."_

I laugh helplessly. I’m feeling giddy now, flying high on endorphins.

“Yeah... uptight bastards. Same with public phones... Well I’ll rent us a nice room in an inn, if I have to. We’ll scandalize the proprietors with our pornographic noises, and then we’ll leave. Nothing’s going to stop our x-rated reunion...”

I take another drag off my cigarette and breathe out with satisfaction.

_An inn, even. Well - yeah. Or if I absolutely have to, I'll commandeer the back room, and everyone can put pillows over their heads. There's no way we're going to keep our hands off each other..._

_I play with the notion of finding another temporarily empty house, but it's too risky - we were extremely lucky the Fitzsimonses lived in such a quiet area, and didn't have any plants that needed watering. I noticed the empty spots when I first scouted the place - that's how I knew it was very unlikely we'd be disturbed. But how many people actually move their plants to a neighbour to look after?_

_Anyway – I should be able to find a place. It's only for a little bit - you'll be able to get a job easily, you're young and strong and though you're English, you have that self-assurance of posh people that makes people trust they know what they're doing. And once you have a job, you should be able to rent a room with a landlord who's not too fussed about your cousin living with you for a few quid extra. And from there - the sky's the limit. Once we have found Georgie, we can go to England, and I'll get a job, and Georgie is going to finish school, and we'll go to university one by one, and before you know it we'll rule the world..._

_I smile. "An inn, a tavern, an ale-house - whoever will have two ruffians who would scandalize any guests of a delicate nature. I'm sure such places can be found..."_

“I’m sure they can,” I purr. “I’m so looking forward to scandalizing with you...”

God, I have thoroughly enjoyed this call. After we got the crying and angst out of the way, we flirted, had phone sex, and I had the best wank of my life...

“I know I just came a few minutes ago... but I’m feeling surprisingly good under the circumstances. Talking with you has made me very happy...” I say softly. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better too, Jim...”

_"I'm much too horny to feel much of anything else at the moment," I grin. "Fuck, Sebastian, you could make a fortune running a phone sex line... in case you can't get a job when you're over here. 'Call for a posh English wank'," I giggle._

I laugh loudly. Hearing you giggle makes my giddiness skyrocket...

“Perfect. I’ll be sure to send an ad to my father so he can see what I’m up to. He’ll be so proud at how I’m using my aristocratic sensibilities...” I grin.

_"I can learn the accent, I'm sure - then I can take over occasionally, so you can have a break. 'Oh darling, I'm positively concupiscent with titillation...'" I try in my best posh English voice._

“Oh _very_ good, old chap... we’ll make our fortune with posh phone sex,” I snigger.

_It's rare that you let your proper accent come out - is it weird that I find it kind of sexy? Though to be fair - I'd find anything you say kind of sexy right now... I am in need of some time away from the public eye. Maybe we should do this every time - it makes leaving the phone call slightly less terrifying._

A moment passes in silence. “Well... I guess I should let you go - take care of things,” I say delicately. Fuck... the thought of you going off to have a wank, spurred on by our phone call makes me partly hard again.

“God... that’s so hot. I might just have to enjoy a second round...”

_"I will try to link with you telepathically so we can have it together..." I breathe._

_"When shall I call again? I know we said Saturdays, but that seems so long..."_

“Way too long,” I say emphatically. “I can get through a day if I know I’m going to talk to you the next day. But if that’s too soon, three days from now?”

_"Tuesday? That works," I say. Yeah, what were we thinking; once a week?!_

“Alright... I’ll miss you every moment...” I say softly.

_"Me too... god, I miss you..."_

_Don't get maudlin now Moriarty..._

_"I will talk to you in three days... at two o'clock, alright?"_

“Yes... I’ll be waiting...” I sigh. “I love you, Jim...”

_"I love you, Seb... take care, my love..."_

_I hang up. A pang pierces my heart. But my cock is urging me on - yes, I need to find a spot - there are public toilets two streets down, with any luck no one has used them since they've been cleaned this morning._

_I walk over, the images you put in my head playing over and over, barge in, head straight for a stall. The floor is clean and the place smells of bleach - I don't think anyone's been in here at all. Gratefully I close the door, pull out my cock, which is straining, think of you - Sebastian, god *Sebastian* - lying down on the bed, your legs spread, your hand on your cock, your eyes closed as you stroke up and down... the sounds you made on the phone just now –_

_oh, yes, *Sebastian*..._

_With little jerks I come into my hand, panting, picturing you doing the same - fuccck, Sebastian, I miss you..._

_As I clean myself off, leaning against the cubicle wall, two small tears drip onto the tile floor._

A pattern establishes itself... I spend my days by myself and see my friends in the evening. But having your phone calls to look forward to every few days gives me a sense of hope that I will get through this separation without falling to pieces...

I start up my workouts again during the day - visiting the gym, lifting weights, going for runs... I even start visiting a boxing gym and martial arts studio. These things aren’t free, so I might as well take advantage of Moran money while I can...

I get more out of working out and fighting than hanging out with my mates and drinking... but anything to get out of that mausoleum I live in.

And plus, I’ll look super-hot when I see you again, and I’m sure you’ll like that...

and show me just _how much_ you like that...

I think of this as I wait for your call Saturday, staring at the clock and watching the minutes drag...

_I only get to the phone booth ten minutes before two. I walk around it, excitedly, finally phone at five to two._

_"Sebastian? I found him! I found Georgie!!"_

I blink, feeling stunned.

“You _found_ him??” I repeat. “Oh my god! Jim!”

I feel you brimming with excitement on the other end of the line, an entire country away...

“That’s so-“

 _Real_... you’re going to get him back, and then I’ll actually be living with you and your twelve-year-old brother... making a home for him along with us...

A smile breaks out across my face. “So _amazing_ , Jim... I’m _so_ beyond happy for you...what happens now??”

_I can hear the big smile on your face. Mine must be even wider._

_"I went down to the Misericordia on Thursday night, and he was there! I mean - *he* wasn't - but his file was there! He's been taken in by foster parents - in Drumcondra - that's North Dublin - a few months ago. It had their address! So I went to look - of course - but they're not in; they may be on holiday, or maybe a weekend away - I don't think they've gone long, there wasn't a lot of mail on the mat. I went again today, but they're not back yet - there's a driveway but no car, so yeah, I think they're away. It's a nice house! A proper house, not a flat, and quite a good area, with green spaces and stuff. Not like the Fitzsimonses', smallish houses, but nice enough. I will keep going back until they're back - and then I will try to get him alone, outside -"_

_I swallow. My greatest fear - that he will want nothing to do with me, will hate me, because of what I did -_

_No. Don't think that. You're the only family he has; of course he'll want to be with you. He will understand - even you understood -_

_Oh yeah - Sebastian. Maybe I should let you say something too._

_"So - yeah. Sorry, I'm so excited. I was so afraid I'd go through every children's home in Dublin and never find a trace of him... but I got him at the fourth!"_

I listen with rapt attention. You did it... oh my god. You really did it...

The determination you’ve shown in such impossible circumstances...

“God, don’t be sorry on my account! This is the biggest, best news, Jim... no wonder you’re excited!!”

I stare off for a moment. “Well, it’s only a matter of time before you can talk to him! I can’t wait to hear about your reunion!”

_"I'm so - so nervous -"_

_I can't tell you why, of course..._

_"If - if he'll remember me, and want to be with me, rather than with - nice people in a nice house -"_

_You are all supportive... "Of course he'll want to be with you! You're his brother... when did you get - separated?"_

_"Two years ago... he was ten..."_

_"He'll remember you; and he'll want to be with you - I'm sure of it. And if not - give him some time to get used to the idea. It can be difficult, but - don't give up. I'll be with you soon - I'll support you in any way I can..."_

_"I know - I know..." I say, swallowing. "And I miss you - I don't want you to think that I forgot about you now I found my brother - I miss you all the time..."_

"No, of course not..." I soothe. "I know that... I miss you too, but I couldn't be happier in this moment... this is so great, Jim. Really... everything is falling into place. It all feels unbearably slow right now, but in less than a month, we'll be together... all of us," I sigh, feeling relieved.

But what you said about him possibly choosing his foster family... I suppose that _could_ happen. If it does, how will you handle it?

_"Oh god... I can't wait..._

_but even... you know... I’ve been so afraid that he - wouldn't want to be with me. That he'd -" *hate me* "- prefer to stay with adults, who treat him well._

_But now - even - even if he" *hates me blames me* "wants to stay with them - I'd - not be alone? I'd have you... and I would know where he was, and I could keep an eye on him, and see how he was doing, you know, in a real family, who love him and take care of him... and you and I would build up our own life, and that would be alright..._

_It's so weird - it's my worst fear, but it's not so scary any more. He'd be alright, and I'd be alright, even if we weren't together..."_

Oh thank god.. so I don't need to worry about you falling apart if he prefers to stay where he is?

In some ways it would definitely be easier - but ultimately I want whatever's best for you. For you to be happy and to have the home you've needed for so long...

As for me, I'll be with you either way - so I'll have exactly what I want.

"I'm so glad to hear that... as long as he's in your life, that's the main thing... god, you must be so relieved, after all this time..."

_"I can't wait to see him - I haven't seen him for so long. I want to see how he is doing, how he is feeling... I hope he is happy, with these people - but I also hope he wants to come with me. And you. He's going to love you - and you'll love him, you're both - you're quite alike; vivacious, curious... I'm sure you'll love each other._

_So - yeah, I'm going to be keeping an eye on the place - I'm assuming if they're away for the weekend they won't be back before tomorrow night, so shouldn't really go before then - I don't want to look suspicious; though I'm pretty good at not being noticed. But yeah - when they get back, I'll try to catch him alone - it's a nice area, I'm sure he goes out alone to play or meet with friends or whatever -_

_Anyway! That's me all excited, sorry Seb - I have been dying to talk to you, hear your voice - how have you been?"_

I lie there, listening to you talk with a big smile on my face. God, I could listen to you for hours...

“I’m doing alright... I’ve started working out and running. I realized I have to fill my days with something or I’ll lose my mind. I still miss you like crazy, but it helps to have a focus. I’ve also been boxing... and l picked up kung fu again, which I haven’t done for a while. I’m a lot better at it now... more killer instinct. I have to hold back more than I’d like, so I don’t end up in prison...” I grin, and light up a cigarette.

_Oh -_

_*Oh*..._

_Boxing Sebastian. Kung fu-ing Sebastian._

_I recall your moves in the fights we had - like that, but even *more* skilled..._

_My mouth goes dry._

_"I can't wait to see that... I do like a good killer instinct..."_

“Mmm... I can’t wait for you to see that...” I exhale smoke, smiling up at the ceiling. “I know you can take care of yourself, but - I like the thought of being your knight... your Tiger... ready to do unspeakable things to any who would threaten you...”

_I'm getting heart-eyes like a cartoon character again. I can't help it - you being my big strong protector is so incredibly *sweet* and sexy and really all I dreamed about when I was alone on the streets... and now you're *real*._

_"Only twenty more days... we've done *eleven*, and they have been the longest days ever... but it's less than twice that until you come back - come *home*." I smile._

Hearing you say _home_ , I suddenly feel a lump in my throat. I’m this close to bursting into tears... but somehow we’ve made it through this call without weeping and lamenting, and I think we should try to keep it that way. Hearing you cry when I’m so far away is like torture...

“I can’t wait to be home... where I belong...” I say softly.

_"I can't wait either... to hold you in my arms, kiss you, love you like you were meant to be loved... I - don't laugh, but I get all warm inside when I think of the *silliest* things - like doing the dishes together, or me washing your clothes when you're at work, and cooking dinner for you - I'm sorry, I must sound like the least manly man imaginable - also eh - drinking beer and - playing darts..."_

I snigger. “Please. I love making breakfast for you. And reading literature. And look how often I cry my fucking eyes out. But I would still pit you or me against any lot of those manly men... do you think most of ‘em can fight like we can?” I take a drag off my cigarette. “Besides there’s another area where we would rate high on _very_ masculine energy...”

_"Exactly," I grin. "All them pussies who want to make love to soft, sweet girls... A *real* man fucks a guy."_

I start to laugh and end up choking on the smoke. “Jesus,” I say in the midst of a coughing fit. “You won’t hear an argument from me...” I chuckle.

_"Hey, be careful with my boyfriend," I grin. It still makes my heart glow to say it. My *boyfriend*. My *boyfriend*, Sebastian. My *boyfriend*, the hot seventeen-year-old guy who knows kung fu and German, and who calls me his King..._

I cough again and grin. “Don’t worry... you’ll get him back in even better condition...Three weeks of missing-my-boyfriend-bootcamp is going to turn me into a beast for you,” I purr.

_"Hmmmm, a beast of my own... a wild Tiger to walk around with and unleash upon anyone who displeases me... and to then take home and tame, so he obeys me, only me... what a great concept._

_When you get back, you should teach me some of the techniques - and Georgie, too. I only know street fighting, which is effective, if not elegant, but it never hurts to have more than one option._

_And once I've cut the smack I'm going to get properly fit - you don't want a scrawny boyfriend. It was really hard in the beginning not to take more, because I just wanted to - like be in a daze until you got back - but I didn't; and I've even started taking less. If Georgie wants to be with me, I'll cut it out there and then - I'll be sick for a few days, but then I'll be right as rain, and find us a place to stay..."_

I listen to you quietly, feeling so relieved...

“I’m glad you’re being careful... I’m trying to not drink my face off, too...” I sigh. “I think everything will be easier when I’m back. Not _easy_ , but - even facing challenges, at least we’ll face them together... and yes, I’d be happy to show you both some martial arts moves...”

_"Everything is so much easier when you're here..." I sigh. "It's a common side effect of being in love that one imagines oneself invincible and capable of everything, but it *does* mean that hardships are more easily overcome, and challenges seem less daunting. Like - I do fear cutting the smack, but knowing you'll be there afterwards and I will be able to be a *proper* boyfriend for you, makes it seem almost trivial. And if Georgie's there as well - who needs smack?_

_I'm glad I - some of the guys I know - and girls - they've completely lost sense of anything else. They've stolen from their parents till they got kicked out of the house, from their best friends, lovers... they care about nothing else. It's never been like that for me... I know every junkie says that, that they've got it under control, and then points to someone who's worse than them, but - yeah, I know I'll be sick and sad when I cut it, but it's not my *life*. It's just a - crutch. And with you and Georgie, I won't need the crutches any more."_

“That’s good to hear,” I say softly. “I still feel awful that I left you to deal with all this on your own... but I also know you can handle it, if you say you can. I believe in you, Jim... you’re going to accomplish amazing things...” I blink as I hear myself. Huh. I wasn’t planning to say that, but I do believe it...

_I am, aren't I..._

_I'm not just some random junkie. I have an extraordinary mind - I'm not using it at the moment, but I should. I *will*..._

_"Thank you," I reply. "It - that means the world, you know. Having someone - no, not someone - having *you* believe in me... I just know I can do anything. I love you, Sebastian..."_

“I love you too, Jim... Just twenty more days, right?” I close my eyes, exhaling. “And when I see you, I’ll never let you go again...”

_"Hmmm," I agree. "I've been looking into squats which have nice basements to turn into dungeons, so I can chain you up and never have to let you go... but they're *so hard* to come by these days."_

I laugh. “Well, you might have to wait until we’re older and richer... then we can have a dungeon of our own...”

_“We’re going to go far, Seb... when we’re together nothing can stand in our way.”_

_I’m confident of that. Even when the giddy chemicals of being in love abate a bit - we’re a great team._

My jaw sets with determination. “Fucking right nothing will... god, I love you, Jim...”

_I can just picture anything trying to stand in our way, and you punching and kung-fu-kicking the shit out of it... my strong, protective Tiger._

_"I miss you so much it hurts all over... but we're getting there, Seb... we're getting closer with every beat of our hearts..."_

I sigh - god, I must sound like a deflating balloon. “I miss you so much, Jim...” I murmur. “I’m right there with you in spirit, even if it seems like forever until we’re together again... at night, I’m going to look at the moon, and know that it’s shining down on you too. I know you’re more into the stars, but I can’t see much of them in London...” I say wistfully.

_Oh -_

_Oh what a great idea. We can look at the same moon - knowing that you're looking at it will make me feel closer to you - oh you are such an incurable romantic -_

_"That's wonderful... I will look at the moon at the same time, and we'll know that we're not that far apart at all..."_

“Yes... and when I see the stars, it will be because I’m with you again...”

_I swallow. "So... next talk on Tuesday?"_

“I can’t wait... good luck with getting to talk to Georgie. I’ll be thinking of you, and hoping for the best...”

_"Oh god I can't believe it -"_

_I sigh. Waiting till tomorrow night is going to be just as unbearable as waiting for you, and I'm having to do *both*... but I can't risk arousing suspicion in neighbours, thinking I'm staking the place to break in when they're away. Patience is a virtue and a skill, Moriarty..._

_"I'll talk to you on Tuesday, my love. Be careful... don't overdo the exercising... think of me when you wank... and I'll see you on the moon tonight. Eleven?"_

I chuckle. “Moderate exercise. Wank only to you. Moon at eleven. Got it.”

I sigh again. “You’re better at hanging up than me. You do it... I love you.”

_"I hate that skill. It's a rubbish skill, and I very much look forward to never having to exercise it again..." I sigh._

_"I love you, Sebastian. I'll speak to you very soon. And we're together all the time... it's just that the amount of space in between is variable."_

I repeat your last sentence to myself and smile. “You’re so right, my beautiful genius... I’ll remind myself when I look at the moon. You’re always with me...”

_I touch my ring. I know exactly where the engraved S is, even though it's on the inside. I put my thumb on there, kiss it._

_"Have a good weekend, Sebastian... I love you..."_

_I hang up the phone, stare at its hard black shape; the ugly heavy miracle device that can bring you to my ear, if not to the rest of me._

_I lean against the wall of the booth. The urge to call back is almost physical - my hand is already moving up. But five minutes more will not make the separation any less bitter._

_I sigh, head out into the sunny afternoon. I need to somehow maintain myself through the next thirty-two hours..._

When the connection is severed, I feel a physical sensation in my gut that’s so intense it’s almost painful. I’ve felt so close to you during these calls, like you’re the very air I breathe. If anything, our separation has made our bond even more intense...

Still it makes it that much harder to say goodbye...

Right. Only one thing for it. I’m hitting the boxing gym...

and when I’m done with my workout, I’ll shower, fall into bed, and wank thinking of you...


	26. Prelude to Madness

_The next Tuesday when I phone you I’m a bit more subdued. Still I can't wait to hear your voice._

_There's the ever-present fear that you won't pick up - won't accept the charges - won't be there -_

_And the immense relief when I hear your voice. Again._

_"Sebastian..."_

“Jim,” I breathe, my hand clasping the phone. “I missed you so much...”

It felt like an eternity; thank Christ we can talk again...

Only - you don’t sound as excited as last time...

“Are you - alright?”

_"Yeah - yeah, I am - god I've missed you Sebastian... It's so good to hear your voice again - I love you..." I lean against the side of the phone box._

_"What's happened, Jim? Did you - see your brother?" I hear the tension in your voice._

_I hang my head, shake it._

_"No... when I went there last Sunday, they'd got home. The car was there and there were lights on. So I got all excited - but it was late, so I figured Georgie would be in bed, and definitely not going out. So I made sure I was back the early next morning, and I found this spot a bit away between two rhododendrons, where I couldn't be seen from the road, but I could see the front of the house perfectly, so I sat there - all day. I saw the man and the woman leave the house, separately, but not Georgie. And when they were both out, the house was completely still; I went closer at one point, but I couldn't see anything move; no telly on, no one in the back garden, anything. And at night when they were both back, they were eating dinner, and it was just the two of them. And later, they switched on the telly, but again it was just them two. When it got dark I went to the back of the house, but there was no light on except in the living room. And when they went to bed - only one room was lit up, what I assume was their bedroom, and then nothing._

_And the same today - I saw the man leave the house, and the woman a bit later, and no Georgie."_

_I'm swallowing - it hurts; I'm so disappointed, but it does feel good to be able to tell you._

_"I'm hoping that they went and - took him to stay with relatives, maybe, for a couple of days - maybe they have kids his age, and it would be fun for him. Or even - a summer camp, or something - he'd love that. But - I don't know how long I should keep waiting and looking - what if he's somewhere else? What if they moved him on to another family, or another home?"_

I listen to you, my heart sinking. Oh you poor thing... to be _so close_ , and now - what will you do? Once again I curse at myself for having left - even though it was the best shot I had at not being tracked by my parents.

Well, I suppose the foster parents could have sent him to a summer camp... But what if he _was_ sent back to one of the kids’ homes?

You’d have to keep scoping out this house to be sure, and then you’d be back to square one...

“Shit... that’s so disappointing, Jim,” I say, feeling miserable and frustrated. “I wish I was there to help you... I’m so sorry I left and I’m not there with you!”

_"I'm - yeah, I'm very disappointed... but I'm so glad I can talk to you about it. I was thinking the whole time when I was looking at the place - I was thinking about how I'd tell you about what I did, and what you might say, and things - it's like you're always with me, even if just in my head..." I sniffle._

_"I'm going to have to talk with them... with her. I'll pretend to be a friend of Georgie's, and I'll be ready to run in a moment, if things go sour... but I have to know what happened to him, and they're the only lead I have."_

I’m taken aback by this... you’re actually going to talk to her?

Somehow I thought that would be the last thing you’d do... but it would give you the answer you so desperately need.

“Wow. That sounds like the best approach, so you won’t be wasting time waiting for him to show up if he’s moved on to another place. But hopefully like you said there’s a reasonable explanation for him not being there...”

I sigh. “I wish I could give you a hug,” I say mournfully. “But I _am_ always with you... and before too long, I’ll be able to hold you in my arms again. For as long as you want, whenever you want...”

_"I know, my love... my Tiger. It means so much to me - every time I feel down, I think of you, of what we have - how I'm not alone, I'm never alone any more... it's still - sometimes I just suddenly think of you and it makes me so happy. Like I almost forget for a moment, stuck here in the same old life, or desperately trying to find Georgie, and then I think - 'Sebastian!' and I smile... and every time I talk to you is like a - like a warm bath on a cold day, or something..."_

_I'm babbling._

You’re on to something with this ‘Tiger’ business... the more sweet things you say, the more I want to nuzzle you... roll onto my back to be petted thoroughly...

Oh, naughty thoughts. Bad Tiger...

Now is the time we focus on the sad Kitten...

“I know...” I rub my eyes. “I think ‘ _Jim_ ‘ throughout the day, and it hits me like a tidal wave. So much emotion - missing you, wanting you, loving you... I’m dreaming of you all day every day...”

_"Me too - I don't want you to think that I ever *not* think of you - and I know I'm focussing on my brother now, but that doesn't mean I'm thinking of you any less... I think about you all the time..."_

“God no, Jim... don’t worry about me. Of course you need to think of your brother!” I protest. Meanwhile my heart is doing somersaults that you care so much about my feelings. When has anyone cared so much about my feelings??

“You focus on you and Georgie for now... and think of me when you need comfort and strength. It’s all there for you, Jim...” I twist the cord around in my hand, and press my face to the receiver, desperate to feel closer to you. I’ve never had such an intense connection with my phone before...

_"Thank you, Sebastian... god, I miss you... this would be so much easier with you here..."_

I close my eyes. “I know... and I’m regretting it now, seeing what you’re going through. I should be there...”

_"No, my sweetheart, we made this decision for a reason... it's going to be alright._

_I'll go talk to her after this call - I'm not far from their house; and I'll see what she says - I know I didn't mix up the address; and they look like they have kids - there's a trampoline in the back garden. So - either Georgie is with them, but he's on a holiday, or he was with them, and he's moved somewhere else for some reason; and then they will know."_

“You’re going to talk to her now?” I ask in surprise. “Oh, wow... so hopefully you’ll find out very soon, and you can decide what to do. And you’ll tell me Saturday...”

I don’t know why I’m feeling so - what am I feeling? Fear? Why?

No, I’m sure it’s just apprehension... If he’s moved on, what a low blow that will be for you... and I’ll feel even worse for not being able to help...

“Well - be careful, yeah?” I feel helpless, like I’m sending you off into the wilderness to kill a bear and become a man. Which is a fucking weird metaphor, and I have no idea why it popped into my head...

_"I will... I will be careful. I've got a plan... I'll pretend I've been away, and I'll try to keep the talk at the front door so I can run if she gets suspicious. Don't worry, my love... I'll be alright._

_Now, tell me about you. What have you been up to..."_

“Oh yeah...” I say hesitantly. It feels strange talking about trivial things when you’re going through something so monumental...

Well. _Comparatively_ trivial... It’s _the only thing_ keeping my head above water other than a phone call every few days...

“My workouts are going great... and I’m getting so much out of kung fu... but boxing has gone to a whole new level...”

“That’s great, Sebastian!” you say, sounding fucking delighted.

God - you’re so happy for me, even while you’re in the midst of a personal crisis... I feel a twinge of guilt, but maybe you’ll appreciate thinking of something else for a bit...

“Yeah, it’s all because of the trainer I’ve been working with... you should see this how this guy _moves_ , Jim. He’s ex-military... And he has the wildest stories... _such_ a bad-ass...” I say in awe as I light up a cigarette.

“I’ve already learned so much... evasive manoeuvres like I never imagined were possible. When a punch goes past me like a battering ram, and I feel the air currents moving over my skin, but it doesn’t touch me...” I take a drag from my cigarette, and exhale. “God, I feel _high_... And the impact of _my_ punches! Like I’m shaking the earth... There’s no drug like it... And nothing puts me in a good mood quite like blood flying - mine, the other guy’s, it doesn’t matter. I’m just that much of a violent sod...” I laugh low in my throat.

“He says I’d be well suited for the army. Not that it’s in the cards for me, but it’s great to hear from an actual military man. I’m fucking lucky to be training with someone so amazing...”

_I feel the hairs in my neck rise when you say that the guy who's training you is amazing. Is he, now? Fit and muscular, I bet? So is that the reason you love it so much?_

_"How old is he?"_

“What?” I ask, confused. What does his age have to do with anything?

“Dunno... late twenties, maybe?”

_“Hot, is he?”_

“Hot?” I repeat. “Why do you- _oh_.” I pause for a moment, stunned.

“You think I’m _into him?”_

_Your stunned voice jolts me out of my bout of jealousy._

_Fucking hell, Jimmy - he's shown nothing but utter devotion to you, and you flip out because he is raving about an inspiring teacher?_

_"I'm sorry - you sounded so impressed by him - said he was amazing..."_

_It sounds as pathetic as I feel now._

“I am... he is! But not - amazing like _that_ , more like - what I want to be like...”

I mean, is he attractive? Yes. I’m not dead; of course I noticed...

But I don’t think you want to hear that.

And it never crossed my mind to do anything with him, anyway.

“Jim... I hope you don’t think I would do anything with anyone, no matter how ‘amazing’ they might be... compared to _you_ , amazing doesn’t cut it. Don’t you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined me for other people...” I say, my voice sounding breathy.

_Thank you... thank you for not getting exasperated at my stupid jealousy flaring up at the most inappropriate moments..._

_"I know... I'm sorry. I just - well, I just get jealous sometimes – I’m just - scared of losing you I suppose. Thank you for being so - understanding..."_

“Losing me to someone else? Wow... you have no idea what you do to me, do you? Sex used to satisfy me for such a short period of time before I wanted more - usually with someone else. Now I not only have the most mind-blowing, hottest sex ever, but _love_ \- love like I’ve only dreamed about... I feel like a blind man who can see for the first time...” I sigh. “I _was_ dreaming, you know... I just didn’t know it. All this time... I was dreaming of you...”

_My knees get weak and my eyes damp - oh Sebastian... you're so fucking perfect..._

_"Me too... I've never been happy; I didn't know I could be, and then you came, and fuck - the sun broke through for the first time... the thing is, all the things I think, that I want to say to you, are such soppy clichés; and I always thought they were stupid, but now - each and every one of the clichés is true; it's all there - the swelling heart, the butterflies in my stomach, you being the light in my life - and time slowing to a crawl when you're not here. But we will make it - we're nearly halfway there Seb... Fourteen days gone, only seventeen more to go... it's unbearably long, but time *does* pass and we *will* get there..."_

“‘Course we will,” I say, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “You think anything could stand in the way of you and me?” My voice sounds raw, brimming with emotion. Well, let it... you know how I feel. “And don’t knock soppy cliches, Jim...” I breathe, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “You’re my dream come true, after all...”

_"I love you, my Tiger... my Knight... I'll speak to you very soon..."_

_It's hard as always to end the call - but I also want to go and talk to the woman._

“Talk to you Saturday... I’ll be thinking of you, Jim. Hoping for good news...”

I untwist the cord in my hand. “I love you...” I murmur.

_"I love you, Sebastian... so much..."_

_I swallow._

_"I miss you... I can't wait to talk to you again. I do hope I'll have good news..."_

“Me too... I miss you already. Bye, my love...” I whisper.

_"Goodbye, my sweet Tiger... I love you..."_

_I hang up._

Dial tone.

There’s no sound like a severed connection...

I hang up, already feeling bereft. Immediately I reach for my trainers. Only working out can get me through this... the question is, is it running or lifting weights that will lift my depression?

Nah... it’s boxing I need.

I drop the trainers, and quickly change into an old Clash t-shirt and cut-off army shorts. Then I grab my duffel bag with my boxing gloves and shoes, and head to the door.

_I sigh, look at the phone. Sebastian... god I wish you were here._

_My stomach is a bundle of kittens, all rolling around, biting and clawing at each other in a big ball. I look in the direction of Georgie's street._

_Please, let him have come home, just now... let me walk over and see him running out of the house, a football under his arm, with his big smile..._

_I swallow, walk over. No Georgie, no footballs, no kids at all._

_With lead in my shoes I walk towards the front door. Be alert, Jimmy. One sign of her suspecting who you are and you're gone..._

_I swallow again._

_Calm down, Jimmy. Icy spark in the centre of your brain._

_Expand._

_I feel the coolness envelop me._

_This is it._

_I raise my hand, ring the doorbell. A ding-dong sound echoes through the house. After a second, footsteps approach, and I see a shape through the frosted glass, reaching out for the door handle._

_Opening it._

_Late thirties. Sad eyes. Tired. Dark hair, dyed - going grey. Smoker. Occasional glass of red. Two cats; ginger and black._

_"Hi, madam," I say using a little-boy-smile and an Australian accent. "Sorry to bother you - but I was wondering if Georgie is home?"_

_Startlement. Recognition - she knows who Georgie is. But she was not expecting the question._

_"Who are you?" she asks._

_"I'm Mike," I reply, still smiling. "Georgie and I hung out together - but I haven't seen him in a bit..."_

_"Are you at Georgie's school?"_

_Hearing his name from her lips makes me want to jump her, scream, open up her head to find everything that she knows about Georgie - *where is he?!*._

_"Yeah, I am, but we've been away for a bit, visiting Australia... my Nan was sick..."_

_She's looking not happy - she doesn't want to be here. Well, neither do I, lady... just tell me where he is..._

_"So you haven't heard..."_

_*Heard WHAT*, I want to scream at her, but no, stay calm, Jimmy, just look mildly puzzled, maybe slightly concerned..._

_"What?" I manage, and she looks at me oddly. Does she recognize me? Fortunately I look nothing like Georgie; I look like Mam, Georgie always took more after Da; even had his blue eyes. But maybe she's seen pictures..._

_She sighs, gestures inside. "Maybe you better come in..."_

_Come in? Why??_

_Is Georgie there? Maybe he - broke his leg, or he's sick in bed - they were at the hospital at the weekend -_

_No, that doesn't make sense - if he was stuck in his room, it'd have a light on occasionally, they'd spend time with him - I couldn't have missed that..._

_A cold chill creeps up my spine as I follow her inside. The lady walks into the kitchen, opens the fridge, pours a glass of coke, puts it on the table. I sit down. The kittens in my stomach have grown; their claws are now sharp and large as razor blades. I look at the lady, who sits down at the table, takes a mug of tea that I guess she'd been drinking when I rang the bell. A magazine lies open to a recipes page describing a spinach bake._

_I don't like the way she looks at me. With something like fear and pity, and sadness. I swallow._

_"Mike..." she sighs._

_"I don't know how to say this. Do you know what suicide means?"_

I’ve been hitting the punching bag for a while when one of the guys asks if I want to spar. Seems like a good opportunity to practice. But once I’m in the ring, I realize my head’s not in the match. I keep thinking of you, feeling troubled...

Imagining you seeking out that lady... finding out what happened to your brother...

“Look lively, mate,” the guy says with annoyance.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and throw a punch that he easily avoids.

_Time stops._

_I can only stare at the upside-down illustration of a spinach bake._

_Screaming noise in my head._

_The razor claws have torn open my stomach and are ravaging through my insides._

_Somehow I manage to speak, in a voice that's still Australian. "What - happened?"_

_She rubs her forehead. "You know Georgie was a very quiet boy... he was often sad..."_

_*No he wasn't. He was playful and lively and happy - you must have had a different Georgie - a different George Conor Moriarty -*_

_"Sometimes when people are very sad, they don't see a way out..."_

_She's talking to me like I'm a child -_

_"We talked with him, and the doctor talked with him - but we didn't know it was this bad... he didn't say..."_

_A tear leaks out. I follow its path down her cheek. If it doesn't fall on the table all this isn't real -_

_"It's never so bad, Mike... if you feel unhappy, you need to talk to people..."_

_I nod._

_There's a screaming siren in my head that's getting louder and louder. I hardly hear her._

_"Did he - leave a note?" I choke out. She looks at me, in a funny way. "You hear that people leave - notes - why they did it..."_

_People. They._

_Not Georgie. Georgie's not people. Not they._

_"He wrote a letter - to his brother. Did you know he_ _had a brother?"_

_"No - he never told me -" my throat is burning and the words are sandpaper -_

_She's looking at the wall, her hands folded around the mug, the tea forgotten._

_"What did it say?"_

_She's looking back at me. "He just explained he was sad, and that's why he did it. I... sent the letter to the children's home where his brother is."_

_*No you didn't!! Where's the letter!!! Give me the letter you useless slut! Give me my brother!! He was your *responsibility* and you just let him -*_

_Wait. You knew, didn't you. You knew his brother was missing. You looked over there - for a fraction of a second, but you looked over there - to that box with wastepaper - you -_

_threw it out._

_You threw it out -_

_I'm staring at her. I'm incapable of - anything. Action. Thought. Articulation._

_She sighs. "I'm so sorry you had to hear this way, Mike... it's so awful when kids are so unhappy." She reaches out her hand, touches mine, which is still holding the glass of coke. "Shall I phone your mam to pick you up? I think it's good if I talk with her, so she knows what's happened."_

_I nod, squeeze out a few numbers. She says she'll be right back and walks to the living room._

_I dash to the front door, pull it open, run out._

_Run for a long time._

How can it be good news in any way? The summer camp idea was a nice one, but-

I get clipped in the jaw and my head snaps back.

I glare at the guy who smirks back at me.

“Your head’s in the clouds, that’s what you get,” he says scathingly.

_I come to the river, but I don't jump in. Too soft._

_I pass walls, and I want to run into them, but it won't help - it will not switch me off - will not stop the screaming in my head -_

_*Georgie's screaming*_

_I run until I'm out of breath and stabs in my side, then run some more -_

_I get to the flat, run to the back room, slam the mattress down, so the door is blocked._

_I'm not stopping to think, if I think I'll *die*, there's too much pain, too much pain pain pain *PAIN* - no -_

_I grab my works, cook up - even now with a steady hand, it's unbelievable; there's less there than I'd want, but it should be enough; I've been cutting down -_

_jab it in, plunge it down - pain subsides for a moment - oh *fuuuuuuuck...*_

_Georgie I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry._

_I'm coming to you..._

That smug bastard, he thinks he has my measure...

_I’m distracted, you tosser - or you’d be bleeding by now._

I focus on footwork, keeping away from him - let him think he’s got me on the run, on the defensive -

It’s like dancing -

The last time Jim and I danced...

Keep your head in the game, Moran -

_Block -_

That’s it... let him get nice and close...

Throw a couple of weak punches, let him think I’m a goner -

And then - clock the fucker.

I imagine you watching me... I’ll have to find a boxing gym in Dublin, invite you to come and see me spar -

I imagine your eyes shining as you watch, your beaming smile...

A wave of missing you hits me so hard, I nearly gasp -

God - _what the fuck was I thinking leaving you_ -

 _BOOM_ -

I struggle for breath, find myself on the floor of the ring...

What - happened?

My eyes focus on a smug smile.

The lips peel back to say, “You’re _done_...”

The guy leans down to where I’m finally drawing in a breath.

“Leave your fucking problems outside the ring. Mate.”

With that he exits. And I stare after him, panting.

_I'm wrapped in a very thick coat of cloud, like the marshmallow man, or the michelin man... I'm floating in clouds as well. It's a bit stifling, but I need it, because I'm constantly being pummelled with missiles and I'd be in a lot of pain if I didn't have all this padding, so it's fine, I guess..._

_I'm floating over the mind map. I think I remember it being a clearly-laid-out space which was - useful, in some way? Now it's all lost in smoke, which I think comes from tear gas grenades, because my eyes keep crying. There's rubble and ruins everywhere, scraps of paper blowing this way and that, burnt-out cars, sirens blaring, but I can't hear it very clearly, because my ears are protected by this thick marshmallow foam._

_A burning piece of paper floats by - a poster of a circus or something, featuring a tiger roaring - there was something about a tiger... I like tigers, I think. They're sweet and warm..._

_There's a lot of ads for Sebastian. I like Sebastian too, I think... but it doesn't matter, because everything is in ruins, blackened by flames, collapsed. Which is fine, because I won't be here long... I'm just floating by._

_I'm approaching what appears to be the heart of the destruction. Lots of fire, gunshots, screams, explosions, buildings tumbling down. I float through the smoke, tears flowing down my eyes, unable to see anything, until I come across a construction that's still standing - armoured concrete, lined with lead - oh yeah. The bunker I had erected... it looks impervious to all the violence around it. Well made. A shame I won't get to use it..._

I pick myself up off the floor, groaning softly - my ego isn’t too bruised, but I’m sure my face will be. Fucker got me good - gingerly I open my mouth and experiment with moving my jaw.

The guy is already busy with a punching bag, and ignoring me. Whatever. I have bigger things on my mind than some wanker at the boxing gym with a chip on his shoulder. But I can’t stop myself from waving jauntily at him to catch his attention as I leave. I give him a toothy grin, and he scowls at me before pointedly looking away.

Till next time, mate...

I forget all about him as I exit and a cold wind rushes over me. I glance at the sky - it’s grey and growing dark alarmingly quickly.

I wonder if it will be storming tonight when I stand under the night sky to look at the same moon as you.

I feel swept away with romantic longing for just a moment before worry cuts through me. How am I supposed to get through the next few days not knowing what happened? And how you’re coping with whatever you learned?

Why didn’t you wait until after your conversation to call me, Jim?

I guess you wanted to share your feelings with me first... which I understand.

As for me, I have no one to share these feelings with for the next few days... feelings of trepidation and anxiety that curl like vines, sliding around me and pulling tighter...

I swallow hard and hurry home under the darkening sky. As I feel fat drops of rain splashing against my face, I break into a run - but I think there’s no escaping the coming storm.


	27. Alone You Breathe

_I'm floating away now. There's nothing for me here._

_I don't know what's there where I'm going, but I know that that's where I want to be... that's why I came here..._

_For a long time, nothing happens, I'm just floating further and further away through the clouds. The mind map has long been left behind; there's just a comfortable twilight. The clouds are soft, the marshmallows seem to grow ever thicker, covering my ears, my eyes, my brain..._

_*SNAP*_

_A missile pierces the marshmallows, hits my chest._

_*SLAP*_

_*SNIP*_

_Other missiles hit my mouth, my ears. I flinch. The marshmallow has been torn, is ripping. Wind screams round my ears, shouting my name._

_*JIMMY! JIMMY FOR FECK'S SAKE!*_

_I don't like those sounds. They're too harsh. I was on my way to mam... Let me go to my mam... and Georgie..._

_*call an ambulance... no... no guards... give him speed... no that will kill him... jim... jim, feck's sake... jim...*_

_They keep hitting my chest and my face; I wish they'd stop - it's annoying..._

_A mouth on my mouth - oh - Sebastian... you're here... you've come back to kiss me... how appropriate - my first kiss and my last kiss..._

_What are you doing, Seb, stop it - that's not how you kiss - stop blowing me up like a balloon -_

_*JIMMY!!!*_

_I push - too much, leave me alone - I try to tell them, but they're blowing air into me, it's weird, I'm already floating, what do you want me to do? Be a pufferfish?_

_Stop it - I don't want your air -_

_I push them off. "Leave me alone!" I shout, but it doesn't work, it's just a weird drawl, doesn't sound like anything, maybe looloo..._

_"Jimmy!" Jenny is right in my face. I close my eyes, try to look away, but she slaps me on the mouth - dammit Jenny..._

_"Jimmy! Stay with me!" Bennie and Stu move into view, Stu's hurting me, rubbing his knuckles on my sternum - fecker - I try to raise my hands to push him off, but I can't._

_"ckoff..." I manage._

_"Jimmy! Can you hear me? Jimmy! Look at me!!"_

_Why would I want to look at you? I don't want to be here. I was going somewhere... important..._

_“…what happened?... you know better than to OD… is it that English twat?... I'm gonna deck him... he's not worth it, Jimmy!... Jimmy look at me!... Stay with me Jimmy... that's it... look at me... don't close your eyes, Jimmy!..."_

_They're zooming in and out of focus, and I just want them to go away, just want to be alone for a moment, catch my breath, but they're constantly in my face; one face after another, and touching me, and I just want them to go away, but they're not listening, shoving and pushing and touching and shouting and constantly demanding that I look, and talk, and perform like a fucking circus monkey - what's *wrong* with them..._

I arrive home breathless and sopping wet. Then I’m shouted at for traipsing in small damp puddles on the floor - as if Lord Fuckhead Moran is going to get on his hands and knees and clean up after me?

“Dreadfully sorry, Father,” I mutter and head up the stairs. I have to block out the ensuing shouts about how I have no respect for anyone or anything and Victoria is going to see that and come to her senses, and then they’ll be back to square one with this poor excuse for an heir to an illustrious name, bla bla bla - nothing I haven’t heard before in one form or another, but it _stings_ tonight. Not the ‘illustrious name’ thing - I couldn’t give a shit. Something about Victoria seeing the truth about me, except it’s not Victoria at all, and you would never do that, and what the fuck does the bastard know about _anything??_

By the time I get to my bedroom, my heart is racing, and not just from running. How did he shake me up like that?

 _Because,_ I tell myself. You’re worried about Jim, that’s all. And feeling guilty _as hell_. And feeling... uneasy. Scared.

Why didn’t I insist you call me back after you talked to the lady? I curse myself, and dig through my cupboard for a bottle of whisky. I unscrew the cap, and start to drink.

“She’ll come to her senses,” my father sneers.

“Why did you abandon me?” you plead.

“You shouldn’t have left,” my voice accuses.

I drink steadily, until the fearful voices in my head decrease in volume... my heart rate decreases... I’m gasping for breath.. and before too long, the voices have ceased entirely and there is only the darkness left to keep me company. Darkness wraps its slippery arms around me, darkness shoves its tongue into my mouth... I’m not quite dreaming, it’s more like an alcohol-fuelled fever dream that I wake up from for a few minutes at a time, heart pounding... but then I’m clawed back to the waiting embrace of the one who never lets me go.

“Jim,” I call out fearfully, wanting you to save me from this nightmare. I’m half-conscious as I twist and turn in the blankets.

But - it’s not me that needs saving. You’re the one who’s on your own! You’re the one who needs me to look out for you...

“Jim... I’m so sorry I left,” I whimper into my pillow, and my eyes begin to squeeze out tears. I don’t know why I’m crying...

Lightning cracks.

The bottle is empty.

The pillow is wet with tears.

_When they've revived me, the others want to know what's wrong with me. I just stare, wild-eyed._

_The pain is immense._

_Georgie. Sweet, happy, little Georgie._

_"I will always be there for you," I told him._

_I was his big brother. He trusted me. He knew he could count on me, more than on Mam._

_I failed him._

_He's gone._

_He was so hurt that he had to go._

_Georgie._

_I killed his mother, took away his brother._

_He didn't want to live any more._

_Georgie._

_His eyes keep shimmering in front of me, looking at me with tears, asking me where I was, why I left him, why I killed Mam._

_My fault. *My fault*. *MY FAULT*._

_I do what they say, when they say. I move my hands, I tell them how many fingers they're holding up, I tell them their names. I drink some water without choking._

_Jenny tries to get me to tell her what happened, but I just shake my head. She figures it's Sebastian leaving, and tells me there are plenty of other fish in the sea, and he might be back, and he doesn't know what he's missing._

_Finally they leave me alone. They try to get me to join them in the lounge, but I tell them I want to be alone. They take my works. I don't protest._

From oblivion’s embrace, I wake up gasping.

It felt like a few minutes, but I don’t know...

Bleary-eyed, I look at the clock.

Midnight.

What’s wrong with midnight? I think, confused.

Midnight... twelve o’clock, I tell myself in my drunken stupor. But _what’s wrong with twelve?_

Oh... _OH._

 _Twelve_ is an hour past when I was supposed to look at the moon with you!!

It was _my idea_... and it made you _so happy_... and I _missed_ it...

I push back the blankets with a strangled cry, and try to stand - only to slump to the ground. Fresh tears streak down my cheeks.

 _Fuck_... I have to get outside... if I try to go downstairs like this, I’m liable to break my neck. But I have a balcony, I just hope I can see the moon from it...

I crawl across the floor, sniffling. I throw open the door, drag myself out into the night. I sit up and get a faceful of light from the full moon, surrounded by dark clouds but peeking through in that moment.

It’s like a slap in the face, accusatory and scathing.

The cold light is drenching my cheeks - no, it’s tears and rain mixing together.

I didn’t even know it was raining, but it’s really coming down now, and there’s thunder, and there’s lightning, and there’s someone shivering and crying, and it’s me, begging for forgiveness...

“I missed our date in the moonlight, Jim...” I sniffle. “I’m so sorry...”

I stare up at the moon, hoping to have a sense of you looking back. But did you do the same and feel nothing because I wasn’t there?

Lightning cracks.

The moon stares back hatefully, and disappears behind the gloom.

And once again I’m wrapped possessively in the arms of darkness...

_The more the haziness retreats, the worse the pain gets. It's eating me from the inside out - from my stomach, my guts, my head, my *heart*. Razor blades and acid work their way through my veins. And I can't switch it off -_

_I try. I bash my head against the wall in an effort to stop the constant barrage of guilt - it's laying bare my nerves one by one and flaying them with penknives._

_Georgie. My fault. Georgie. My fault. Georgie. GEORGIE - Never again - Georgie - gone, forever, irreparably, no matter *what* I do, never, *ever* coming back -_

_My fault. I can't undo. Can't fix it._

_Georgie._

_The spiral keeps turning and turning in my head, and I can't escape, and I don't *deserve* to escape, I deserve to suffer..._

_deserve to die..._

_but they wouldn't let me, and there's no way they're going to give me smack now -_

_My fingers scratch my face, but physical pain is insignificant and doesn't distract._

_GEORGIE_

I wake up shivering and damp. Where am I?

I blink at the dawning light. Still on the balcony... shit.

I groan as I feel the full effect of drinking all that whisky and sleeping in a wet heap on the balcony.

Slowly, painfully I unfold myself... I stand up, muscles shaking, and stumble forward towards the open door.

When I reach my bed, I collapse into it. Fuck... drinking heavily doesn’t usually affect me like this. But I did slam it back pretty fast... and then... there was a lot of emotional stuff last night. I’m not sure why I got so carried away...

 _Did_ I get carried away-?

I think of you, and my stomach lurches. I wince at how disoriented I feel. It can’t just be the drinking, I’m like a tank when it comes to abusing my body...

I can’t shake that feeling that something isn’t _right_. But why would I think that? You and she could have had a perfectly lovely conversation, and you could be looking forward to telling me-

I wince again. I have no way of verifying this, I have no fucking idea why I think this - but I don’t believe that’s what happened.

Oh god... Jim...

_It's a phrase; 'to be climbing the walls'. I would be doing it, if I could. I'm scratching at them, when I'm not scratching my own skin. My fingers are bleeding - or is that blood from other places?_

_I can't do this. I can not do this. I can't live with the knowledge that I've killed the only two people I've ever loved._

_I killed Mam with a knife, and Georgie through slow disintegration brought on by taking away the only two people he ever loved... it would have been kinder to have just stabbed him as well. Quicker._

_I can't cope with the pain. It's too overwhelming; I cry, moan, bang, scratch, and the physical pain does nothing to distract from the blaring agony inside. What do I do? What do I *do*!?_

_Is there *any* way to switch this off?_

_I lie on the mattress, look into my mind map. It's completely on fire; buildings ruined; everything glowing red hot and hurting. Georgie's face is appearing in the smoke, in the flames, everywhere I look; and it burns my eyes, my brain, my heart. I scream at him that I'm sorry but he's just looking at me with big, hurt eyes._

_*You said you would always be there for me...*_

I have no idea how much time passes drifting, waking up, falling back asleep... but when the phone rings loudly, I awake with a start. Fumbling for the phone, I say in a rusty, panicked voice “Hello??”

There’s a pause, and then a low female laugh. “Jaisus, Sebastian... what is _happening_ to you?”

I cover my bleary eyes with my hand. “Victoria...”

“I assume you were expecting someone else? Even though I left a message yesterday, and you’ve yet to call me back...” she says pointedly.

This is the last thing I want to be dealing with... “There are things in life that don’t involve you,” I say shortly.

“Now Sebastian... was that chivalrous?” Her voice sounds amused.

“Not really...” I grab my cigarettes and light one up. “Why are you calling?”

“I _thought_ we were friends...” Her voice no longer sounds amused.

Fuck. “I’m sorry, alright? I just- can’t-“ I suddenly feel the urge to burst into tears. Jesus... I can’t do this right now!

“Sebastian. _What’s wrong?”_ she asks urgently.

“I’m worried about Jim...” my voice cracks on your name, and I let out a shaky breath.

“Why? What happened?”

I sigh. “I can’t get into it, but... he’s on his own, and I’m worried about him...”

“Do you want me to check with Stu?”

I swallow hard. “You’re still seeing him?”

“I still walk on the wild side, yes. Stu and I understand each other...” she says wryly.

“That’s awfully kind of you, Victoria...” I mumble. “But he knows he can contact me if he needs to. I don’t want him to think I’m checking up on him...”

“Oh, it’s not kindness. You’re becoming quite a mess. And I don’t consort with people who are falling to pieces - it’s a bore.”

My eyes narrow. “Listen, Victoria-“

“No, _you_ listen, Sebastian Moran. You _chose_ someone whose ship was clearly heading through some choppy waters. You can’t go into hysterics when a storm arrives and makes things worse. You chose this - now deal with it.”

My mouth drops open.

“Hello? Did I make you faint?” she asks drily.

“No...” I take a drag off my cigarette. “You don’t sugar-coat things, do you...”

“Oh, do you want me to? I could paint you a _very_ pretty story about how everything is happy and nice always. Once upon a time-“

“Thank you, no...” I interrupt. “You’ve made your point. And you’re right.”

“What’s that? I didn’t hear that clearly...”

 _“You’re right,“_ I say loudly.

“Feckin’ right I am. Now. You’re going to pull yourself together and stop behaving like a tosser. And you’re going to ask me about what I’ve been up to, like a real friend would...”

“Do you have any real friends?” I ask dubiously.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m trying it out with you, since you don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things...”

“Thanks ever so. What have you been up to, Victoria?” I ask sarcastically.

As I listen to her prattle about boys and local scandals, I feel strangely better. But every time I think of you, my stomach lurches... only two more days until it will be you on the other end of the phone. I only pray you’re alright in the meantime.

_The heart of the fire seems to be the old place... where Mam and Georgie and I used to live. It was the Place of Pain even before this... which is why I built that bunker -_

_That bunker._

_I started to build that bunker around our old house because I wanted to try to lock away the pain - to ensure it stayed there and didn't spread its way all through the rest of the mind map, jumping at me when I least expected it –_

_I look at it. It's massive. It's got thick walls, reinforced concrete, lead lining the inner surfaces - nothing could get through that._

_... could I...?_

_I look at Georgie, all around._

_I can't - I couldn't *lock him away* -_

_Just for a bit. Just to - get the worst edge off the pain. Just until I can - can do something. So I can at least *move*._

_The bunker has a huge open side, through which I can look in. It encircles the place where our old apartment was. Inside is Mam on her bed, soaked with blood. Da smelling of booze, beating us up, calling me a freak._

_"Georgie..." I address the spectre floating all around. "Georgie..."_

_It's a good thing I don't have to speak out loud; I don't think I would be able to say his name through my constricted and swollen throat._

_Wordlessly I invite him to get in, to join Mam, and he does, he *does*, he consolidates himself from all over the mind map into one little boy, the way I remember him - large blue eyes smiling mischievously, playful, *alive* - looks at me - I reach out a hand, whisper - "I love you Georgie - I love you so much - I'm so - sorry..."_

_... and he turns, walks into the bunker, giving me the chance -_

_\- oh god Georgie - I don't deserve you -_

_I look at the side door. It's not really a door - it's the entire wall, metres thick. When that's closed, it won't open again._

_I feel so much better - I feel a stab of guilt - I shouldn't be feeling better when Georgie's dead –_

_I send that to the bunker as well._

_It stays there, for now -_

_Oh this is quite - something -_

_I send the guilt for Mam's death after it. The fear of Da. The grief over Minnie, our cat, who got hit by a car - the fear of losing my mind -_

_I look around the mind map, looking for more._

_Now that the fire is no longer roaring, I can see things from the past - bullies, beatings - they can all go in -_

_I roam outside our old neighbourhood - anything here - could I lock up my longing for smack?_

_Well - I take smack to ease the pain -_

_*PAIN* -_

_I'm jumped by sensations from the bunker - no - get back, you -_

_anyway, if I'm not in pain, I don't need the smack - so maybe the lust for it, the desire for that rush, the soft feeling that surrounds it - off you go, into the bunker with you..._

_When I move further, I see the tiger posters again. And the billboards, smouldered but still recognizable -_

_Sebastian._

_Pain twinges my heart again._

_Missing you –_

_Into the bunker?_

_No - no this isn't permanent pain. It's just for now. He'll be back._

_And then? When he's back? Isn't he just going to leave you one way or another, eventually?_

_Also - everyone you've loved is dead because of you, Jimmy... how are you going to make sure that doesn't happen to Sebastian?_

_You're bad news, Jimmy... Normal people don't kill kids who bully them. Normal people don't kill their mothers._

_You're sick, Jimmy... a psychopath. You can't love... you can only destroy. Everything you touch withers and dies..._

_*But I love Sebastian...*_

_Psychopaths are incapable of love. Do you know better than trained psychiatrists? You were infatuated - just wanted something to enjoy, and wanted to keep it close. Purely selfish._

_I look at the billboard with your face, feel my innards twist._

_Wouldn't it be great to feel *nothing*? How many people have that option?_

_I tear your posters and billboards down, shrink the museum and the cinemas and everything labelled 'Sebastian' into a big clump._

_Roam around the mind map gathering *anything* to do with feelings - sadness, guilt, love, fear; anything - shove it all into the bunker._

_The mind map looks different now._

_Orderly streets, still in rubble, but they can be rebuilt. No fire; no riots; no weather._

_I sweep through it all, ensuring nothing is left that could distract from simple, pure reason. It all goes into the bunker._

_Satisfied that nothing's left, I give the nod. The thick wall groans into movement. I feel a quick stab - should I be doing this - but I throw that into the darkening depths through the closing gap._

_With a resounding THUMP, the wall slots into its place._

_And I am standing in the middle of a ravaged, but clean mind map._

_Feeling nothing at all._

Unfortunately I’m too hung-over to work out, so I slob about watching films and feeling sorry for myself... trying desperately not to freak out. After all, I have _three days_ of this to get through...

Fortunately, hangovers don’t linger very long for me. Eventually it feels worse lying around stressed out and bored... so I get dressed and gather my shit.

I don’t go for a run, I’m not _that_ masochistic. Instead I go to the gym to use the equipment. It’s deeply satisfying and drives the tension out of my system.

I don’t think boxing would be a good idea today - I’m liable to be distracted again... and if I get any attitude thrown at me by anyone, it will not go well for them.

_I have no idea what the time is._

_My body tells me it needs smack, urgently, and excretion, and possibly food and water._

_I move carefully - every muscle hurts. Trembling, I reach for the door handle, pull myself up. I'm barely able to push the mattress out of the way._

_I stumble to the bathroom, thank god it's empty, and just have time to sit myself down on the toilet when filth starts streaming out of me._

_I feel sick, but I can't turn round - stuff seems adamant to leave my body through every orifice; my eyes and nose are streaming too - I grab for the bin and throw up in that as the evacuation of my bowels continues._

When I get home, I get only partway up the stairs before Mum calls me into the parlour.

“Hello, dearest,” she says, putting down her book. “What have you been up to today?”

“Went to the gym to work out...” I say, drinking from my water bottle.

She looks at me in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize - do you enjoy it?”

“About the only thing I enjoy that won’t get me in trouble,” I sigh.

“Well... Victoria won’t get you in trouble,” she says brightly. “I think she’ll be a good influence...”

I choke on my water. “You think so?” I say, coughing.

“Of course... a girl of such good breeding. Shame about the accent, but - once she spends enough time in London, that will fade a bit,” she says reassuringly.

I wipe my mouth, brow furrowed. “I happen to like the accent...”

She wrinkles her nose. “So inelegant. I know it’s unkind to say, but - I can’t help but think of IRA bombings when I hear it.”

 _“IRA bombings?”_ I laugh, shocked. “Mum!”

God, does she hear herself? And how can she find anything offensive in an accent that’s so lyrical and beautiful??

“Oh I know, it’s dreadfully unfair - they’re from the South and had nothing to do with such terrible things, but - after all, an IRA terrorist killed Lord Mountbatten,” she huffed. “Dickie deserved better...”

“Mum... Moran is an Irish name, lest we forget...” I say drily.

She waves this aside. “Too long ago to count. Anyway - I called you in to tell you, your father and I will be away for a few days. We’re visiting the summer home of Lord Hastings and going stalking. Do you wish to join us?”

I shiver at the thought of yet another holiday being stuck with my parents, trapped as a guest in a lordly manor.

The stuffy dinners, the formal wear, the unbearable conversations - no _fucking way_...

“No thank you,” I say politely. “I’ll be fine here...”

“Quite sure?” she asks.

Fuck yes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be busy with boxing and kung fu. Time will fly...”

“Kung - _fu?”_ she repeats, looking confused.

“It’s a form of martial arts from China, Mum...”

“Oh - yes,” she says, shaking her head. “Good Lord, Sebastian... what _on earth_ are you learning that for?”

I shrug. “Oh you know... becoming a man, I hear it’s the thing to do...”

“Yes, but - why not continue fencing, you enjoyed that?” She looks utterly confounded.

“Because fencing is not going to do me much good in the real world, Mum,” I explain patiently.

“Well. I hardly think kung- _fu_ will serve you in the real world, Sebastian,” she says with a slight titter. “Imagine! Just think about the fencing, we can find you an excellent instructor. And let me know if you change your mind about the stalking weekend...”

“I shall,” I say with a jaunty wave, and head back towards the stairs. Well, at least this weekend I’ll have privacy when you call... Is it still only Wednesday??

_When I'm empty of everything, including what I sincerely suspect are significant amounts of bile, vitreous humour, and cerebrospinal fluid, I drag myself under the shower and sit in the scaly bath, letting the water pour over me, slowly washing off the filth the human body produces when you withhold its required opioids._

_The thought of smack fills me with a primal need, a shivering urge to get up, out of the bath, go to Bennie, and stop all this agony._

_But it's different than before. The compulsion is purely physical._

_I flex what's left of my brain. It's desolate and bleak, and my head is pounding with pain, but that's it - my head hurts. My brain, or heart, or whatever the seat of *emotions* is, doesn't._

_So - I am a psychopath after all. Thought so._

I go out with my friends that night. If they were planning to sit around and drink, I would have said no - I actually surpassed my limit last night, which doesn’t happen too often. I’m just that capable of handling my drink - I already know being a functional alcoholic is in my future. When I picture either of my parents, it’s with a drink in hand - shimmering in fine crystal. But just because it’s inevitable, doesn’t mean I have to be cringeworthy about it - I draw the line at being a sloppy, embarrassing, or raging drunk. Charming and rakish are more my thing...or snarky and ready for a brawl.

But drinking isn’t the plan tonight - they’re going to see a film. The thought of being trapped in the darkness again is too much - the darkness of the cinema is far less troubling.

They’ve decided to see Sex, Lies, and Videotape - the title is intriguing enough.

My mates are sniggering away, drinking beer and pelting each other with popcorn. When the film finally begins, I imagine watching it with you, your hand curling around my thigh...

then I begin to imagine you in the film - turning a video camera on me, and asking probing questions. It’s becoming difficult to follow the plot, especially as I have become erect and have to hide it under my popcorn.

I’m tempted to rub one out in the toilets, but I’d rather wait until I can get home and really focus on this scenario with you.

When my mates head off to drink some more, I make my excuses and return home.

Home where I can close the door...

turn out the lights...

And see you before me, purring, _Tell me your fantasies, Sebastian... and don’t stop until I say so._

I moan as I stroke my cock harder and faster, harder and faster...

_Touch yourself for me, Tiger..._

I shudder violently and spill semen on my sheets yet again.

God, I can’t wait to spill it on _ours_...

It isn’t until the euphoria begins to fade that I remember - I have no idea what happened after your conversation. The feeling of fear and dread slowly creeps back, and settles into my bones.

_I'm sick for a few more days. The others are cheering me on for cutting the smack, and Jenny sweetly provides me with food and drink, which I force my body to consume - I must get my strength back._

_On Saturday morning, I wake shivering, but at least I slept - a normal sleep, not a delirium._

_There was something about Saturday._

_It's not important._

_What's important, is what I do now._

_I have a myriad of choices - as always. I have tried to explore them in the mind map as far as I could, in between bouts of demented shivering. Three main ones emerge._

_I can die. That would stop a lot of trouble, but it would be a waste of a genius mind._

_I can continue life as a junkie and low-time crook, and turn into my father._

_I can throw off all the shackles - my family, smack, Ireland - and start using that fucking genius mind to bend the world to *my* will. Wrestle it to its knees. I know I can do this – especially now I no longer have to deal with weakness. It's astounding, looking back, how I have let myself be motivated by fragility - afraid to hurt my precious *feelings*._

_What opportunities are there for a boy - nay, a man - of my talents when I'm no longer held back by those?_

_I get dressed in my suit, put some other clothes in a holdall._

_I don't say goodbye._


	28. Leaving on a Jet Plane

Saturday comes and goes.

He doesn’t call.

_He doesn’t call._

I pace. I lie on the floor staring at the ceiling. I mutter to myself.

I don’t leave my room except to have a piss, keeping an ear out for the phone.

But there’s a sinking feeling in my heart, in my gut, in my fucking soul...

Something’s not right.

I knew it... since our last call, I knew it.

Your conversation didn’t go well.

But why wouldn’t you call to confide in me??

Because _something’s not right._

I can’t even drink myself into oblivion in case you call in the wee hours.

Sunday is utter hell.

I’m bleary-eyed. My nerves are raw. I’m exhausted and jumpy.

I call Victoria to find out when she’s seeing Stu next. When she replies she doesn’t know, and that she’s met someone new anyway - when she tries to tell me about him, I nearly bite her head off.

Gritting my teeth, I ask her to please, please do me one favour and seek him out to find out how Jim is doing.

She sighs and says she will... when she tries to engage in gossip, I cut her off and she hangs up in a huff.

I slam the phone onto the receiver.

I want to go to the boxing gym.

I _need_ to go to the boxing gym.

I can’t go in case he calls.

I punch the wall.

I watch my knuckles bleed.

The day is an endless stretch of grey, grey, grey...

At night my pillow is wet with tears.

_I need to stay somewhere else, in case the tiger comes looking for me._

_I am not thinking of him or Georgie too closely - if I face them directly, they may leak out through unexpected cracks, crawl through the air vents, escape through the sewers -_

_I'm moving to another part of the mind map, leaving behind the old streets that look so sickeningly like Dublin._

_I find a squat that doesn't have heating or water, but it's on the other side of town and none of them know me and they let me sleep on the couch until Sal has the passport ready._

Monday comes and goes. Now it's _me_ calling Victoria repeatedly, asking if she's seen Stu yet. The problem being of course, he doesn't have a phone -

and she _hardly_ knows when he's going to be home.

And does she want it to seem like she's fecking _stalking_ the eejit??

And why should _she_ be the one to make an effort when _he_ was supposed to call days ago and _didn't!!_

All the valid points that she raises I want to counter with a wordless, bloodcurdling shriek.

I feel like Edvard Munch's The Scream come to life... going through the motions of doing normal things like eating, showering, sleeping... only doing a terrible job of all of them. I'm sleep-deprived, ravenous but barely able to choke down food, and my attempts at hygiene have resulted in the scruffy tosser staring back at me in the bathroom mirror with reddened, half-crazed eyes.

I want to physically exert myself so much, I can barely stand it. But I can't leave the house.

I leave the bathroom, return to my bedroom, and start to work out - but I'm so weak, I end up dropping into bed, covering my head with the duvet and whimpering into my pillow.

Tomorrow is Tuesday...

Surely he'll call tomorrow...

_My body is annoying. It keeps screaming at me for heroin, making me wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, giving me the shakes._

_It's all around - people cooking up, shooting up, works lying around, sometimes even on the sofa where I am about to sleep... it's taking all my willpower to ignore it, to just move things onto the table, lie down, pull up the sleeping bag over my shivering body, close my eyes, try to sleep._

_If I touch it again, I'm gone - I'll die a junkie in a few years at the most. The thought is tempting - *very* tempting - but there's a rage inside me that longs for revenge... that just wants to watch the world *burn*._

Tuesday arrives.

I feel ill at ease from the moment my eyes open. My sleep was terrible again.

I drag myself out of bed to use the toilet.

When I see myself in the mirror, I do a double take. Jesus... I’m amazed no one has said anything to me...

Why has no one-

I listen for voices for a moment. How has no one snapped at me to pull myself together, or suggested I may want to comb my hair?

Oh. No one’s home. Their stalking trip.

God... I don’t even remember them leaving. Did they even say goodbye?

I stare at the mirror, taking in my bloodshot eyes, my matted hair.

Fuck. I do need to pull myself together. Something’s not right, and you’ll need me...

I start shedding clothes and get into the shower.

When I’m clean and dressed, I go down to the kitchen for something to eat. I need to keep my strength up to be your knight.

But it doesn’t do any good...

Two o’clock comes and goes.

The phone remains silent for the rest of the day.

_Sometimes when I wake up I feel disconcerted - it's weird not having any feelings. Well - there's some anger left. But that's – clear and pure. It burns; a steady flame of hatred that lights the way. It's the only motivator I have left, and somehow there's something illogical and twisted inside me that wants to keep going - like a deformed parasite clinging to a life he has no right to._

_I spend a lot of time organizing the mind map - a new area, far away from the old. It's much easier now my senses aren't dulled by smack and other chemicals which muddle the pure intellect – the streets and buildings are straight, clean, sparkling with potential._

_Part of me knows that I'm suppressing things, and that that is not a good idea; or so psychologists claim. I'm firmly of the opinion that psychologists can fuck off._

_Sal has got me a passport - it's gorgeous. And English._

_I am now Eric Osmond, 16-year-old son of Derek and Caroline Osmond, of Birmingham, England. I've been in Ireland visiting my mum's family - she's originally from Kildare - for the summer._

_I had better get back before the school year starts._

Wednesday arrives.

My eyes open. I feel a flare of anger before a single thought enters my mind.

Not at you...

I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me... not intentionally.

But you’ve missed _two calls_.

How am I supposed to function not knowing how you are??

You’re a 14-year-old on your own with a junk habit. Living in a squat. With junkies.

And that talk you had with that lady... that’s where everything went pear-shaped.

But why wouldn’t you tell me??

What if - _something else_ happened?

What if the money I gave you was stolen... and you had to return to sex work, just to have money to eat?

What if you’re in jail? In a hospital? In a _coma?_

What if you _need_ me, and you’re waiting for me to show up and comfort you - or _rescue_ you??

Oh fuck...

My heart starts to pound, and I jump up.

Should I start calling Dublin hospitals? I grab the phone. Are they going to ask what my relationship is to you to give out information? Should I say I’m your cousin? Brother? I could say my name is Sebastian-

Sebastian-

The phone drops from my hand. I don’t know your surname.

How do I not know your _fucking surname??_

Why didn’t I ask??

I give a strangled scream.

I can’t very well say I’m family then, can I! And they’re not going to give information about a kid who’s been beaten up or whatever (my stomach seizes with pain at the thought) if someone is calling and only knows his first name... it would sound suspicious as hell...

Same with calling around to jails...

Fuck. It’s Stu I need to speak to... why did he and Victoria have to have a falling out _now?_

The solution comes to me in that moment, clear as day - I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. I need to go. Now.

I need to _fly to Dublin_ and find you.

I’ll go to where you were staying... and if you’re not there, I’ll talk to Stu.

And if Stu isn’t there, I’ll wait for him. However long it takes.

Jesus, Moran... why did this take you so long?

I grab the phone again and the travel agent’s number I had scribbled down for booking my flight. I call and speak to a very nice lady who gives me my options - it’s already afternoon. Why did I sleep so late?? Luckily there’s a flight tonight I can book.

A little while later, I hang up and start throwing shit in a rucksack. I don’t need much... before too long, I’m ready.

I glance at the clock. I have a few hours to kill. If I spend it here pacing, I’m going to lose my mind...

I grab my duffel bag with my boxing gear, and head down the stairs.

_I pack my bag - precious little to take with me. My suit, of course, carefully rolled up to keep it nice. Eric went to the wedding of his cousin. Some other clothes._

_Good, I suppose. The less I have reminding me of Dublin, the better._

_Sarah is hinting that I should pay them something for letting me sleep on their couch. They don't know I have money, I've kept it well hidden, so I give her the ring I've been wearing on my middle finger instead. It's nice - got her initial in it. Though I suspect it will be sold within the day._

At the boxing gym, I spot my coach - he’s laughing with a guy and putting a free weight down onto the floor. He sees me and salutes. I nod and head over to him.

“Moran!” he exclaims. “Where you been, mate?”

I shrug. “Some stuff going on...”

He eyes me. “Sounds like! I heard about your sparring match the other day...”

I look at him in disbelief. Someone can’t have an off day without being judged for it?

He laughs. “Not the end of the world, mate. Actually, a good lesson for you... don’t step into the ring unless your head is in it completely - not floating off somewhere else, having thoughts. Thoughts will get you in trouble...”

“Yeah, I heard,” I say with a scowl. I came to get my aggression out, not to get a fucking lecture...

He looks at me for a moment. “Are you up for it again?”

“S’why I’m here...” I say grimly, and unzip my duffle bag.

“Good... get your gear on, warm up with the punching bag for a bit, and then I’ll find a partner for you to spar with...” He nods at me and returns to his weights.

Minutes later, I’m punching away at the bag, grunting as I do.

Everything that’s happened the last few days is falling away, and I exhale with relief as I focus on footwork, sweat, and the impact of my fist against leather...

After a while, my coach’s voice rings across the room.

“Oi! Are you ready, Moran?”

I look at him, nod and lope towards the ring. I duck under the rope and only then do I see the guy from last time who kicked my arse. He’s grinning and jabbing the air.

“Still thinking about your girl problems?” he smirks.

“Girl problems?” I ask, my voice cold and steely.

“Yeahh, you had a lovelorn look aboutcha...” he taunts. “Nobody gets a miserable look like that on their face unless they’ve been dumped,” he says cheerfully.

Something leaps in my chest - an unknown emotion that I’m scared to look at too closely. “It wasn’t that...” I say, dangerously quiet.

“Ohhh,” he laughs. “Well, maybe you’re the last to know. Are we going to do this, Romeo?”

The coach whistles loudly. “Oi! Enough nattering. Ready?”

The guy gives me a toothy smile.

I stare at him and thump my boxing gloves together hard.

The bell sounds, and I fly across the ring.

_It's strange being at the airport and knowing that I'll actually get to fly in one of the machines._

_Mam took Georgie and me to the airport a couple of times - we loved looking at the planes taking off; Georgie couldn't get over it - seeing the people next to them, showing that they were *actually* larger than buses; but they *really flew* - I tried to explain the aerodynamic forces to him; he didn't quite grasp it, but he loved me explaining planes while actually seeing them in action -_

_*stop*._

_We got ice cream._

_*stop*!!_

_I've been balancing on a razor's edge these past days - I think and plan, and that is fine. But any *memory* that jumps up because it's triggered by - anything - is *dangerous*. Memories are tinged with *feelings* and feelings can break down the bunker... it's a red-hot powder keg at the moment, and the smallest spark could set it off and I'd explode._

_People are walking around me with English accents and some of them sound like you - like Sebastian - like he sounded when he was trying to sound working-class - and I can't, *can not* think of Sebastian - he and Georgie are the closest to the surface, the most volatile -_

_It's alright, I'll get used to the accents, won't look up because I think there's a tiger stalking me whenever I hear a Londoner speak -_

_I pass the ice cream shop; am afraid to breathe in in case the smell evokes memories, clutching the ticket that Sal got me - I know it's going to get me through but my heart pounds when it's inspected - the agent nods smiling and I am walking towards my gate - my gate._

_I'm leaving._

_I'm actually leaving it all behind. Already the air smells better... away from the putrid smell of Dublin; the scent of kerosene alluring to me, because that is the fuel that will get me away - away from - everything. I will leave it all here._

_Whoever comes out in Birmingham - will be a new man._

There’s a bell ringing insistently.

 _“Moran!”_ I hear as though through a fog. “Fucking _stop!”_

I look down in a daze. The bloke in the ring appears to be passed out cold, his face covered in blood. I look up as one of the coaches dives into the ring to check on him, just as he comes to.

“We gon’ do thith or no’?” the guy mutters wetly through his bleeding mouth, sounding confounded.

“Locker room, Moran,” My coach jerks his head towards the doorway. _“Right now...”_

I follow him, fighting the urge to slam my boxing gloves together as I walk. Adrenaline is still surging through me. So when he opens the door to the locker room with a terse “Get in there, Moran”, I’m fully prepared to tell him to fuck off, and turn around and leave. But there’s a gleam in his eye and I have to admit, I’m curious.

He gestures at me to sit on a bench. “Might as well get ready to go,” he says, distracted. “You’ve done more than enough for today...”

He begins to pace. I yank on the laces of a glove with my teeth, then hold it under my armpit as I pull on it to loosen it. When it falls to the floor with a thump, I start working on the other glove.

“Well? Gonna tell me I can’t do that kind of thing here? I’m a disgrace to boxing? Don’t come around here anymore?” I say scathingly, shoving the gloves into my duffel bag.

Rolling my eyes, I begin to unlace my shoes.

“If anyone asks, yeah... that’s what I said,” he says, and I look up to see him smiling slyly. “You have something most of the blokes here don’t have, Moran...”

“A pretty face?” I drawl, kicking a shoe aside and starting on the other.

“Killer instinct. The kind you don’t need a weapon for, or a bellyful of beer. You’ve only been at this for a short time and you move like a predator,” he says appreciatively.

“I’ve been learning kung fu,” I mutter.

“Doesn’t matter what you bloody learned. No one taught you that. That’s _yours,”_ he says fiercely. “And it’s a double-edged sword, that kind of hunger for violence... You gotta do something with it, or it will turn against whoever’s in your path...”

“Something like what?” I ask as a feeling of longing is unleashed in me so intensely, I wince.

“Well, you can keep at it recreationally and it will take some of the edge off... until it doesn’t. Or you can channel that rage professionally.”

“Like a boxer?” I ask dubiously.

He shakes his head. “Not what I had in mind...”

“Police?” I scoff as I slip on my trainers. “I don’t think so...”

“No. You have army written all over you, mate,” he says with a small smile.

“Yeah, you said...” I shrug. “But I have other plans...”

He shrugs back at me mockingly. “S’your life, Moran. But you pull that shit around here again, and you’re banned.” He crosses his arms and stares me down.

I laugh as I get up. “Was that so hard, Mark?” I say, stepping up to him and standing close. “Thanks for the career advice.”

I grab my duffel bag and brush past him as I exit through the door.

“By the way, I’m not sorry...” I call back. “The fucker had it coming...”

I look back to see the guy slumped over on a bench, receiving first aid from a trainer. His eyes drop immediately to the floor and I stalk out, strangely elated.

_I try to look like I know what I'm doing, and it seems to work - my passport is checked and boarding card torn with a smile by a blond lady and off I am, into the belly of the flying beast..._

_I am next to the window, which I'm glad about - it means I can see Ireland disappear, and it reduces the risk of anyone talking with me because they need to pass to go to the loo or anything. I've brought a book, which I focus my gaze on like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. I make sure to turn the pages regularly. I don't think I take in a word._

_A young woman sits next to me - early twenties, student, middle class. She's soon lost in her magazines, and hardly acknowledges me past the first friendly nod when she sits down._

_The plane starts moving. Accelerating._

_I know how it works, but it's still quite something to see the ground disappear below us - see fields and trees and buildings grow smaller very quickly - see Dublin disappear behind the clouds –_

_That's it._

_It's gone._

_I'm gone._

Back home, I check that I have everything I need. Passport, cash and credit cards... a change of clothes... toiletries... a book. Can’t bring my knife with carry-on luggage. But I can always get another one... from the same shop where I bought - the Ramones t-shirt that I left with you.

Pain flares through me.

Jim... _where are you??_

No time to fall apart, Moran. You have a boyfriend to track down, and possibly rescue. And I’ll do whatever it takes...

I call a cab, then realize I should leave a note for Mum. I head to her bedroom where she usually leaves information when they’re away. The bedside table has neatly written names and a phone number on a pad of paper. Looks like they’ll likely be back by Friday. I may need more time…

I tear out a fresh sheet and scrawl out that I’ve gone camping with my mate Alfie from school. I don’t have a mate Alfie - and the phone number of his imaginary parents is smeared with ink and quite illegible.

That taken care of, I grab my rucksack and go down the stairs to lock up and wait outside.

The cab ride to the airport takes an eternity...

but soon enough, I’m in the VIP lounge at Heathrow with a drink in my hand, desperately waiting for the boarding call...

_I watch out of the window, but see mostly clouds. All too soon we start descending – a shame; I was enjoying flying. But of course it's only a short hop to Birmingham._

_With a start, I worry it won't be enough - that I will still be within Dublin's grasp - but I dismiss that thought. I *know* it's irrational, I *know* there's nothing going on with Dublin per se, it's a perfectly normal city, but I need this illusion to give me the strength I need to make an entire new start unburdened by the past._

_Of course I can't leave my bunker there - I wish I could have - but it feels smaller and further away in the mind map._

_When we land, there's a small mouse running through my insides, worrying about passport control - after all, this is a UK airport, they're the experts on UK passports - what if I look somehow suspicious - what if there's something wrong with it - it looked fine to *me*, but what if I missed something - a watermark - a perforation - a number -_

_I keep my face neutral, slightly bored, like the other passengers, just waiting to get this over with and get on with my life._

_The customs agent looks at my passport, looks at me, and time stands still -_

_\- and he nods, hands it back._

_I am free to walk onto English soil._

The flight is not nearly long enough to get worked up during - I just stare straight ahead until we arrive. It’s when we land that my chest grows tight and my heart thumps against my ribcage.

Because then I have to deal with Customs and hurrying through the airport and exchanging currency and then finally getting a cab, before I can do what I came here to do.

The cabbie asks me where I’m heading and I start to give the Fitzsimonses’ address - then I stop, tears springing to my eyes.

“Where was tha’?” he asks, perplexed.

I tell him the closest corner to where you were staying, and the cab begins to glide through the streets.

I have no idea if you’ll be home, or if Stu will be home... or how long it will take before someone arrives to tell me what the bloody hell is going on. But if I have to sit there waiting for an entire week for someone to tell me, I fucking will.

_Tourist information help me find a cheap youth hostel. I share my room with three other guys, but it's squeaky clean and the cupboards lock and the shower is hot and strong - heaven, as far as I'm concerned._

_I'm no longer Eric Osmond, I'm now Vic Wilder from Ashford, who came up here to spend some time with my pen pal girlfriend, only to find out that she was dating another guy and had just been stringing me along. I didn't want to go back to my parents, so decided to stay at the youth hostel instead. The other boys invite me to go out partying with them to forget her, and I let them persuade me. They don't really notice I hardly touch my drinks, as long as I remember my round. And they know their way around, know where to go to find cheap booze... and good drugs._

I knock on the door. After a lengthy pause, I knock louder.

Then my fist begins to pound against the wood.

I hear muffled shouting from inside, and eventually shuffling footsteps.

“What do yeh feckin want?” a female voice shouts.

“I’m looking for Jim! I’m his boyfriend Sebastian!” I shout back, trying to tamp down on my frustration.

“Who?” The voice sounds annoyed now. “There’s no one here by that name!”

“There is!” I insist. “I was just here with him a few weeks ago!” My heart begins to beat faster.

“Well I wasn’t here a few weeks ago!!” she says, sounding as frustrated as me.

“Look, is there anyone there you can talk to? Stu? Jenny?” I think for a moment. “Bennie?”

“Bennie and Jenny?” she says with a laugh. “What are they, trained seals? I don’t know ‘em. Yer man Stu I’ve met but I haven’t seen him for a few days. Sorry...”

“Look, can you let me in to wait a bit in case one of them shows up?” I plead. “My boyfriend lives here and I haven’t heard from him in days... I’m worried about him...”

“Let a stranger in? What kind of fool d’yeh take me for?” She sounds indignant now. “Piss off!”

I stare at the door in disbelief. But given that she’s likely a junkie and Christ knows what happened to her to end up in here, I can’t exactly be outraged about her reaction.

“Right... can you do me a favour and ask Stu when you see him to get in contact with Victoria? He can pass on a message to me through her... “

“Like Stu would do anything for any-“

“I’ll pay you,” I interrupt her. “I have money. Speak to Stu for me, and I’ll-“

“Money, now,” she says, her voice suddenly cool and professional. “Shove it under the door and go. And I’ll tell Stu when I see him.”

“And leave him a note.”

“Sure, I’ll just get out my stationery,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And my quill and ink...”

“Please.” I say, my head against the door.

There’s a pause and then a sigh. “Fine. I’ll write him a note to call Victoria for you. What’s your name again?”

“Sebastian...”

“Sebastian...” she says in a quiet voice, and I look up.

“Make it twenty punt,” she says. “And I’ll do what you want...”

I dig through my wallet and slide the correct amount under the tatty door.

“OK...”

“Now get out of our building…”

I sigh. “What’s your name?”

“Lora...”

“Lora, I appreciate it. I just want to find Jim and make sure he’s OK...”

“You’re a true Samaritan,” she mutters. And then there’s silence.

I sigh again, and walk away. I find myself outside staring up at the dilapidated building.

“Fuck, Jim... where are you?” I mutter. I light up a cigarette and lean against the wall smoking and staring off in desolation.


	29. Kissing a Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For loyal readers, the first two paragraphs may look familiar - they were at the end of the previous chapter, but I moved them to the start of this, because it's a better fit.  
> The rest is all new!

_Eddie is a low-time dealer who knows no one. I let the guys know I don't like his gear; don’t they know anyone better. Each and every one of them is keen to show off how well-connected they are in the Birmingham drug scene, and soon I meet Will. Will has shifty eyes. Will has seen things. Will is not much of a talker, but I know how to get people to say things they wouldn't normally say._

_After a while I get a name, and a phone number._

_And soon I start work for Osman._

The longer I wait outside, the more my mind races, and the more freaked out I feel.

For this new girl to not know Bennie and Jenny is one thing... yeah, I suppose they could have moved on, or - worse.

I shift uncomfortably. After all they’re junkies. Possibly sex workers as well. They could be in jail... or _dead_.

But _you_ -

You were going to be kicking the smack soon! And not doing sex work any more...

But then - what if your money was stolen, as I already thought it might be...

And what if you got into trouble with a trick?

Fuck... how am I supposed to find out?? I need to talk to Stu...

I glance up at a dirty broken window.

I hope he gets my note, but does he actually care enough to get a message to Victoria? Junkies aren’t going to be too focussed on the wellbeing of others, right?

Especially if he didn’t approve of me for some reason? Like if he was envious of what Jim had found with me?

And if he hasn’t been home in a few days according to Lora, then - when will he return? Has _he_ moved on? How am I going to find him??

Do I wait here, or start going to bars, or looking for where male prostitutes sell their goods, or - fuck, I can’t call hospitals or jails about him either. I didn’t bother with _anyone’s_ surname! What was I thinking??

Somehow I manage to keep myself from punching the crumbling brick wall, and instead scoop up a beer bottle from the ground and throw it against the house. The sound of shattering glass breaks through my horrified numbness - and I let out an anguished cry and sink against the wall to the ground.

What the fuck am I going to do?

_Where are you, Jim??_

_Working for Osman is easy - I need to spot the potential punters and convince them to buy my gear; and make sure I stay clear of the guards._

_When I'm not working, I'm walking - walking the city, expanding the mind map. Observing, listening, charting. The shops and the theatres. The beating hearts and the ailing areas._

_My brain has so much more space now I'm no longer dulling it with smack and befuddling it with feelings._

_Seeing all the moving pieces, discerning the patterns._

My mind is racing... my heart is racing... my thoughts and feelings are pulling me in

so many directions at once.

Just stop for a moment and think, Moran - _think_.

How long has this bird Lora even been here? A couple of days?

No, she said she hadn’t seen Stu for _a few_ days.

So maybe a week. Which means... it’s possible you haven’t been here for _a week?_

Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_...

I look around wildly. I can’t just camp out here waiting for Stu, not knowing if he’s even coming back. I have to start looking for you - somewhere.

But _where?_

First things first... I have to call Victoria, just on the off chance she and Stu did already connect. Determined, I hoist my rucksack onto my shoulders and head in the direction of the high street.

_Pretty soon, I can *feel* the city moving. It's a complex organism; alike to Dublin in some ways, different in others. But people are people, everywhere; and they respond and move when they're pushed and pulled. If they're pawns - who are the players?_

_And how can I become one of them?_

“Victoria,” I say when she answers.

“Sebastian Moran,” she says, sounding delighted. Then she huffs. “Wait. I’m extremely annoyed with you - calling over and over to hound me about Stu, and then dropping off the face of the earth! One would think you don’t care one bit about me!”

“No, that’s not-“ I swallow hard. Now what the fuck am I going to say??

“I’m very sorry. How are you?” I say carefully.

She burst out laughing. “No need to sound so _formal_ , Lord Moran...”

I’m so agitated, I barely even flinch at the name.

“Jaisus... I’m just taking the piss. I’m fine. Deliriously happy with my current shag,” she says brightly, then heaves a sigh. “But I suppose you want to know about Stu...”

“I-“ I cover my eyes, trembling.

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah...” I whisper.

“Are you crying? Did I not tell you to-“

“I’m here,” I blurt out. “In Dublin.”

 _“What?”_ Stunned silence ensues. “Why??” she demands.

“Because he’s _disappeared_ , Victoria! Not only he last called me a week ago, but - I stopped by the squat and - the girl I talked to didn’t _know_ him!”

“Who did you talk to?” she asks, sounding perplexed.

“Lora. Do you know her?”

“No... but then, I haven’t been round for a while. Jenny I met...”

“Lora doesn’t know her either...” I say, my voice shaking. “What if he’s- what if-“

“Sebastian,” she says firmly. “You’re a wreck. You get yourself here right now.”

“No, I need to - look for him-“ I protest.

“So you’ll look for him in a little while. But first you need something to eat and a safe place to rest and think.”

“I don’t need to _eat_ , I need-“

“Sebastian. Get your arse in a cab. Now.” she says severely.

“What’s the address?” I mutter.

Triumphantly she gives it to me and threatens me with bodily harm if I don’t show up. Minutes later, I’m sitting in a cab watching Dublin fly by and soon I’m approaching the posh area of the city.

This couldn’t be farther away from wherever you are, Jim...

A tear falls from my eye.

_One night I get into a fight. I draw my knife and the guy is dead._

_This earns me respect in some places. It opens up more opportunities._

Thankfully the Clements aren’t home. I don’t think I could handle conversation with arrogant fuckers right now; I would just end up bursting into tears or breaking a lamp... or possibly an aristocratic nose.

Victoria seems to be thinking along similar lines. As soon as she sees me, she steers me in the direction of her bedroom, casting back concerned looks at the front door.

“What time do you expect them home?” I mutter as I’m nudged up the stairs.

“I’ve no idea,” she says tersely. “I’m in a different wing than them, though. So they won’t know you’re here. Then when you leave, you can climb down the trellis - it’s one of the many ways I judge my suitors! If they can’t handle a simple climb down from a second storey balcony, they’re not man enough for me,” she says with a wink.

“I’m not your suitor,” I say woodenly.

She pauses at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowing. “No, you’re a self-centred ass. I’m not plotting to ‘get’ you, Sebastian Moran - believe it or not, I have plenty of other choices. I don’t need to chase after _your_ melodramatic arse!”

My mouth opens but I can’t think of a word to say.

She scans my troubled face and sighs. “It needed to be said, yeh eejit. Come with me...”

When the bedroom door closes, she pushes me into a plush red armchair.

“There. Far away from my diabolical clutches,” she says, rolling her eyes. She sits down on a matching love seat.

“Do you like the decor? I chose it myself!” She gestures grandly around the room.

I glance at the silky red curtains, and the black cast-iron canopy bed with billowy red draping. The wallpaper is Victorian with pale pink roses. The carpet is lush and burgundy. “It suits you,” I say honestly.

“Mam says it looks like a room in a high-end brothel. I took it as a compliment,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Now for the business at hand.” She looks at me, shaking her head. “Well. You’re a sight for sore eyes. I never thought these would be the circumstances you’d be seeing my bedroom in. But here we are. What’s the plan?”

“I’m trying to decide where I should start looking first... other squats where junkies go...” I look at her uneasily. “Or... where male prostitutes look for clients...”

She doesn’t blink, and raises an eyebrow. “If you’re expecting me to scream or faint, prepare to be disappointed. I know very well what kind of life Stu leads. Why do you think I’m not broken up about him bailing like that? It was a bit of fun. That’s all.” She tosses her hair, looking very much like someone trying not to appear miffed. Or heaven forbid, _hurt_.

She gets up and grabs a bottle of Irish whisky from a cabinet and two glasses. She pours several fingers into each, and hands me a glass.

“I should keep my head clear,” I say, unsure. The whisky looks so warm and inviting in the glass...

“Drink it,” she says simply, and elegantly folds herself onto the love seat.

I obey, sagging with relief when the fiery liquid pours down my throat.

“Tell me everything. Why do you think he would leave?” she asks, and takes a belt from her drink.

I tell her the gist of what I know without going into too many details, and she listens closely while sipping her drink.

“So you think he may have received bad news. Then he disappeared. I know you don’t want to hear it, but... is there a chance he _wanted_ to disappear?”

A flare of sharp pain cuts through my stomach, and I wince. My hands tighten on my glass. “Never,” I say firmly.

_Osman has moved me out of the youth hostel and into a flat with two of his other guys, but I really want a flat of my own._

_And pretty soon, I can afford one. It's small and dinghy but there's heat and hot water and I am *alone*. When I close the door behind me, there's no one bothering me; no one who gets to me unless I choose to open the door to them._

_The furniture is ugly but I don't improve it - and there's something about curtains that seems to involve an unpleasant memory so I stick with the manky blinds. They're fine - they blot out the city and leave me all, all alone._

Victoria stares at me for a long moment, then shrugs. “It had to be brought up as a possibility. Alright... I think it would be easier to look where the prostitutes are, out in the open... rather than trying to talk your way into squats, where you’ll find god knows what. Let’s go...”

“What? You’re not coming with me-“ I protest.

She gets up. “If you’re going to engage in these foolish heroics, you need a sexy sidekick.”

I laugh despite myself, then look at her soberly. “Why do you want to do this, Victoria?”

“I told you. I’m trying out what it’s like to be a friend. And if I fuck it up with you, no bother,” she says with a smirk. “Finish your drink and let’s go.”

I neck it, and moments later we’re heading out in a cab towards a seedy part of town. Soon we see young men loitering on the pavement, ranging from young adults to adolescents.

My fingers grip the seat as we do. I’m worried that I’ll see you... and worried that I won’t.

_I struggle sleeping, but I refuse to take any intoxicants. No alcohol, no drugs, not even an aspirin if I have a headache. My mind needs to be clear and pure._

_I spend a lot of time lying in bed perfecting the mind map._

I get out to talk to a few of the younger guys, and _oh_ are they excited to see me.

Until I explain that I’m looking for my boyfriend. Then they clam up and it takes a good deal of coaxing and pleading to get them to open up even a bit... along with a handful of pounds for each. Of course I have no idea if you go by a different name for your ‘work’. But the description of you is clear enough that recognition dawns in their eyes.

They say they know who I’m talking about and they haven’t seen him for about three weeks or so. That’s the right timeline, but I can’t help but be dismayed. At least if you’d returned to your former job, I’d have a lead...

They’re quick to tell me that you thought you were better than everyone - which makes me smile faintly. Then they all try to tell me in great detail what they can do better than you ever could. I thank them, wish them well and return to the cab away from their disappointed faces.

In the cab, I tell Victoria what I discovered. I ask the cabbie to wait at the corner for a bit - a few minutes later, Victoria nudges me and tells me it’s time to go. I stare mournfully at the pavement full of boys living a life no one would want for themselves, not if they had other viable options. That was you once... you had nothing and no one, until I came into your life. You said so.

And I’m determined to be there for you in a way no one else has been...

But Victoria is right - you’re not going to show up here, not tonight.

I allow her to direct the cabbie back to go. When I try to tell him to drop me at a hotel, she tells him to ignore me.

_I develop a taste for chocolate. Putting on weight is good, but it needs to be muscle, not fat. I buy some weights to keep my arms in shape, and I run - run every day through the city, making sure I know every corner of it, know what type of people live where, how they talk, how they move, what they want, what they fear._

I spend the night on Victoria’s floor - safer than sleeping in a guest room and being surprised by a maid in the morning. Her parents wouldn’t mind me visiting, but of course they would speak to my parents about it - and I want to avoid that. For as long as possible, although of course the credit card charge for the flight will give me away eventually... I had just assumed I’d have run away by then.

But as far as I’m concerned, that’s still the plan.

My fingers curl around my duvet as I listen to Victoria breathe.

You and I, Jim... we’ll be living together before long. This is just an obstacle, and I won’t allow it to stop me.

Good night, my Jim...

I look at the alarm clock. Twelve-thirty. I forgot to look at the moon again...

I’m so sorry, Jim... I’ll do better tomorrow.

_My mind is so switched on now I struggle to get it to calm down. I will walk down one path in the mind map and see all the forks in the road as different possibilities present themselves, and I explore each one, which forks in turn, and again and again in a fractal pattern, and I try to see all possible future scenarios resulting from that one action..._

_One time I lose two days, only forced out of it by an unbearable urge to pee._

In the morning, I tell Victoria that I’m going to do some searching and she says that she’ll come with me.

I insist that I’m fine on my own...

she insists that I need to call her by evening and stay at hers again.

I appreciate the gesture but it’s starting to get to me - having to be nice when frustration is building up in me like a pacing, growling animal.

I tell her I’ll have to see how things go with my search.

She protests that I shouldn’t be on my own.

I dig my heels in and we end up arguing. She barely says goodbye when I thank her and leave.

I return to the squat, but no one answers the door.

I loiter outside for a while, smoking - and looking completely suspicious.

Finally I go off in search of other places junkies might be holed up in. The welcome that I get from other squats make Lora’s seem downright friendly.

Unsurprising. And I don’t give a fuck.

I offer money for residents to talk to me, which they take quickly enough - but they say they don’t know you...

and haven’t seen anyone who matches your description...

and I don’t get the impression that they’re lying or hiding anything.

I’m thinking of you the whole time, remembering your smile... how your arms felt around me... your voice when you told me you loved me.

I can’t give up. This is just a beginning...

But... I’m running out of ideas.

I guess I could try my best with hospitals and jails, even though I suspect it won’t do any good.

I return to the squat. No answer again...

I sit with my back against the wall outside your door.

Hoping... praying... that suddenly you’ll appear. You’ll see me... and come running... and throw yourself into my arms... and say, “I knew you’d come for me, Sebastian...” and give me a perfectly reasonable explanation.

No one appears.

No explanations are given.

_Osman is learning that I am not just a good seller, but have good insights. I offer some to him, here and there - he scoffs, but does pay attention._

_It doesn't take too long before he actively seeks out my advice._

I trudge towards the city centre. I look at the signs of the pubs and restaurants and shops. Shops are closing - when did it become evening?

I hear people laughing as they head into pubs, and it feels like a slap in the face.

My stomach grumbles. Did I eat anything today?

I should, although my insides clench at the thought.

Instead I head to a phone booth. I might as well call Victoria, if she even wants to speak to me.

“Sebastian,” she says quietly.

“Look. I’m sorry, Victoria...” I sigh. “I just-“

“No. Listen. I tracked down Stu.” Her voice is tense, strained.

“What?” My heart flips in my chest for a dizzying moment. But her voice -

“Yeah. I went by his place - and will wonders never cease, he was actually there...”

“You - went there? To see him?” I ask, stunned.

“Well, to talk to him. And - he said - “ she hesitates.

“Fuck! Tell me!” I say, my voice raw.

“Jim - OD’d. But they took care of him, and he was OK!” she says in a rush as my heart slams painfully against my rib cage. “Only - he _wasn’t_. Stu said - he didn’t seem right. But Jim didn’t want to talk about what had happened. And then-“

“Then-?” I whispered.

“He kicked the smack. He was sick for a few days, then he was fine. But then - he left without saying anything to anyone.”

“When?” I ask, my voice wooden.

“Saturday... Sebastian, I’m sorry but it seems like he doesn’t want to be found-“

“No, that’s not right,” I snap. “He’s just _confused_. No one looked for him, but if I-“

“ _Sebastian_. Stu asked around, he was worried about him. It looks like Jim took off...”

“No, he _wouldn’t,”_ I protest. “Stu didn’t try hard enough!!”

“Stu _knows_ people. And nobody he talked to had any information-“

“Well, something could have happened to him!!” My hand tightens on the phone so hard I think it will snap in two.

“He could be in a h-hospital. Or he could have gotten _arrested_...”

“Sebastian... come back right now, and we’ll talk more...” she says urgently.

“I can’t talk when he’s _out there… alone!”_ I shout.

“Sebast-“

I hang up. Then I pound the phone against the plexiglass wall until it breaks with a horrible cracking sound. I stare in shock and drop it. Half of the receiver falls to the ground. The other half hangs from the metal cord, swinging back and forth.

My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. My vision is awash in red...

 _Stu_ , I think, fury consuming me. He’s going to give me some _real answers_ , or he’s going to _fucking bleed_.

I take off running back to the squat.

_Rachid isn't happy with me getting close to Osman. He corners me for a chat one night, making thinly veiled threats._

_Fortunately a few well-chosen words, delivered with care, and a certain *look* make him rethink._

Making my way to the house, I keep thinking of the Terminator film...

Well, that’s how I’ll have to be - demolishing every obstacle that stands between me and you.

Starting with that slick bastard Stu, and whatever shite excuses he gave Victoria - they’re not going to fly with me. What does he know about why you OD’d? Who are these people he questioned that made him think you _took off?_

Because I know you would _never_ -

I arrive at the door and start pounding immediately.

No answer. Fuck it.

I let out a raw shout, and kick the door open -

Just like in a good thriller -

Just below the lock, heel first.

The impact is jarring but I’m in.

And then there’s screaming.

And a girl comes tearing out with a cricket bat.

“Lora? It’s Sebastian!” I shout, momentarily stunned.

She pauses for a split second before swinging it at me. But her aim is haphazard, and the brunt of it is borne by the doorframe. I stare at the bat for a moment, then grab it before she swings again.

“Fucking stop! I’m not going to hurt you!” I shout as we struggle with the bat. “I’m here to see Stu!”

“Let /go/, let-“ she shrieks, and I yank it out of her grip. She flies forward, and I push past her to where you kept - _keep_ \- your things.

“What are you _doing?”_ she screams from behind me.

“Where’s his stuff?” I demand, seeing none of his belongings. “Did someone steal it?”

She points to a half-empty bin bag in the corner of the room.

“Stu said to take what I wanted... but it didn’t fit me-“

I sink to the floor and start digging through the bag. Just a few odds and sods - threadbare t-shirts, old jeans, mended socks... and a crumpled-up ticket. From our evening at the theatre.

I let out a wounded sound. “That’s it??”

I scramble up to look in the cupboard for the suit. Not there - neither are the shirts, or ties, or shoes.

“I told you he's _not fecking here any more!”_ Lora says, her voice shaking. “Why are you _doing_ this?!”

I look at her and with shock I realize she’s crying. And that I’m still holding the bat. I drop it on the floor.

Then I throw back my head and let out an anguished roar.

_Osman is regularly consulting me about business matters now. It surprises me that it's so *easy*. There's nothing to it - just putting two and two together, but most people seem incapable of that._

I’m crouched in front of the cupboard bereft of your clothing. I realize I’ve just been staring and breathing for a while... how did I end up on the floor? I hear sniffling behind me. I turn slowly to see her huddled on the floor, wiping her eyes.

Lora.

Crying because of me.

My eyes are wet.

Crying because of you.

I look at the bat... remember my plan to shake information out of Stu, beat it out of him if I need to.

I imagine his face utterly bewildered at my adamance that there’s more to the story. After all, I wasn’t here and I didn’t see what happened.

Because _I left._

I imagine his face saddened that he couldn’t reach you, couldn’t find you -

because -

because -

_You left._

I know I can only take Stu’s word for it - the word of a streetwalker, a junkie, a consummate charmer...

But there’s something about this room.

There’s a truth in this room.

Your presence is _gone_.

You left. And you’re not coming back.

I stare at Lora, wiping her eyes with her fist.

“Did Stu say he was coming back?” I ask tonelessly.

“I’m not his keeper,” she mutters and glares at me. “Do yeh want to leave another _note?”_ she asks, her lip curling into a sneer.

My head bows. “I guess there’s no point...”

“Finally,” she mutters and stands up. “Then - if yeh have no other business here, might I invite yeh to get the fuck out?”

“Yeah...” I stand too. Casting a backward glance at the cupboard and the sad bag of castoffs from your life... shed like an unwanted skin.

Dazed I head towards the busted door. “Sorry about the door,” I say hoarsely, digging out my wallet and handing her a fistful of cash. “And... all of it. I didn’t mean - to scare you, Lora...”

She snatches the cash, eyes bright with anger. “Don’t flatter yourself. There are a lot scarier things than the likes of _you_ in the world.” She crumples up the money and stuffs it in her pocket.

“Now get out...” she says, sounding tired.

For a moment I’m tempted to turn back, to ask _what_ I have no idea - but then the door slams behind me.

And I walk slowly into the darkness... and it swallows me whole.

_Osman’s introduced me to his boss, Farouk. Increasingly, Farouk calls me directly, rather than going through Osman. Osman isn’t happy about that, but there’s little he can do. Farouk has made it clear I’m precious and not to be tampered with._

I wander in a daze for a very long time...

Some part of my mind is still thinking of actions to take, and the rest of me is completely numb...

I find myself in those derelict areas again, walking dark roads and narrow alleyways in between boarded-up houses...

Slowly it dawns on me that the same feeling I had in your room has followed me here - a trail gone cold. You’re not here any more are you, Jim...

There’s a part of me in indescribable pain at the mere thought of you, but I need to focus on this information that’s coming from somewhere deep within me.

You were here - but for such a short time, it barely made a ripple.

I don’t know how I know these things...

Some part of my mind is finding it interesting - the notion of some inner sense that tells me where my quarry is and is not.

If I still went stalking with my parents and their stupid friends, I could test it out.

But I will never go anywhere with them again. That life is done.

The thought seems to wake me up - I don’t know where it came from.

But I’m sensing something else in this place of darkness and despair - a feeling of simmering malevolence. As if it’s watching me as I walk amidst the ramshackle buildings.

I could find death here. Walk into its open arms. I think part of me would welcome it...

But there’s some other part of me that feels defiant and tough like burnished steel, and it succumbs to nothing and no one.

 _No_ , I think... _not done yet_.

Quickly I slip away and onto a brighter street. And back towards the city centre. My mind goes blank again, and I find myself back at Victoria’s house.

There are numerous lights on in the house, including her bedroom. I don’t want to talk to her parents. I don’t want to see anyone...

I climb the trellis up to the second storey, and tap on the window.

A moment later, the curtain parts and her face stares back at me in shock.

She opens the window and steps back.

“Jaisus, I’ve been worried sick... get in here...” she mutters.

I climb in and head to the armchair. She pours a drink for both of us, and hands me a glass. I take a belt from it, coughing slightly at the fiery liquid burning my throat.

She’s staring at me from the love seat, not saying anything.

She wants me to talk. I don’t want to talk. Why am I here?

There’s a bad place in the pit of my stomach that I must avoid thinking about.

I drink more. And more.

We sit in silence, drinking.

“What are you going to do?” She says quietly.

Oh. Oh no. Why did she ask that...?

I open my mouth and no sound comes out.

I’ve dropped the empty glass on the plush carpeting.

I’m on the floor, desperately trying not to scream. I mustn’t scream, it will bring people to the door...

And I mustn’t break things in this nice room... it’s far too easy to scare girls and make them cry.

Stay still and silent, Moran...

Instead I find myself rocking back and forth, back and forth...

My body is cold and trembling.

Numbly I feel arms around me. Warm.

I let out a small, anguished sound. And then a louder one.

They keep coming...

My face is wet. When did that happen?

Now that these tears have begun... how will I ever stop?

Now that I’ve... lost you??

No...

NoNoNo... _Jim_...

_Birmingham is slowly giving up her secrets to me. It's big and convoluted and constantly moving, but ultimately, it's a system, and it works because there is a structure, or rather, many structures which all interlink like an elaborate clockwork - or a spider's web. Pull one strand, and the effect is felt everywhere._

_And if one were able to acquire an overview of the entire web, and know exactly where all the strands lead and cross and tie..._

I hear Victoria talking to me, saying comforting things...

and I don’t hear a word she says.

I’m just thinking of you... when we first met...

Our first kiss...

Our first fuck...

Our enchanted time at the Fitzsimonses’ house.

Sleeping together...

Having breakfast...

Our tearful goodbye...

My promise to you...

Our plans...

You can’t have walked away from that...

You _can’t_ have...

“How could he feel _all that_ and then leave?” I look at Victoria through streaming eyes.

She looks sympathetic, but out of her depth. “Dunno. Isn’t that what love is like?”

My heart feels like it’s going to capsize in my chest.

“Is it?” I say dully.

She shrugs. “As far as I can tell... if most of the songs out there are to be believed...

people are either madly in love at the beginning... or heartbroken when it ends...”

Oh god... is that all this was? Stupid teenage love?

No... I _know_ what you felt was deep. And _real_.

But then - something happened...

Something to do with your brother... bad news.

Only - you didn’t share it with me. You _OD’d_... then you kicked your smack habit and _left_.

And if you’re in trouble, or in danger, or feeling lost and sad and alone...

I have no way of knowing. No way of protecting you, or trying to comfort you.

No way of finding you.

You’re just... gone.

So if I can feel this level of love and have it rejected...

then - love must not be for me.

I’ve had it twice, and lost it soon after... the first time nearly destroyed me.

This time...? Take my heart and throw it in the sea. I have no use for it any more...

“I think you’re right,” I say to Victoria in a hollow voice. “That’s what love is like. I was wrong to think it would last...”

She looks surprised. “You don’t have to pretend not to be upset. I know what he meant to you...”

I stare off in the distance out the window. He did.

“I would have done anything for him...” I mumble. “Anything.”

“And now?” she asks, patting my shoulder.

“Don’t know...”

That’s a lie. I do know. I want to get as far away as possible from the life I know. As soon as I can think of somewhere to go.

But in the meantime...

“I guess I’ll find comfort in the only things that never left me... Drinking. Danger. Sex.” My voice is raw and hoarse.

Victoria looks up at me. Silently she stands and crosses the room to the bottle of whisky. “Well, I can take care of one of those things,” she says casually.

She pours a glass for me, then sits back on the love seat.

_Don’t do this_ , I think to myself. _Jim_...

He’s gone, I tell myself. Gone forever. How long am I supposed to hold a torch? How long until it burns me into ash?

I get up and sit next to her. “Thank you for everything... I mean it. You’ve been a good friend,” I say and hold up my glass. “To friendship...”

“Friendship,” she says and clinks my glass.

I leave in the morning, climbing out the window. Victoria sarcastically delivers lines from the Romeo and Juliet first balcony scene while smoking a cigarette. When I reach the ground, I salute and leave.

In the taxi to the airport, I allow myself a moment to close my eyes and take a shaky breath. A single tear rolls down my cheek.

Then I stare straight ahead and think of nothing.

Because nothing matters any more. It never did.


	30. Wasted Years

_In the end, it is easy. Once you're at the centre of the web, you command it. All you need to do is keep track of its strings._

_Alone, far above the world, in my mind map I survey my domain._

_Birmingham._

_Provincial town._

_Tomorrow, I leave for London._

Back in London, I make my preparations to return to Eton.

I spend as much time away from home as possible. My mates seem relieved to see me up to my old tricks.

At Eton, nobody seems to sense anything different about me. Just as I prefer.

Let them think of me as the snarky adrenaline-junkie... the hard-drinking party slut.

They never really knew me. They never wanted to.

And I don’t want to know them.

It’s just a ten-month sentence, and then I can get out of this place.

Only I don’t go that far away... I end up at Oxford, because I haven’t figured out where else to go.

I do alright for the first few months... history has always interested me.

But ever since _that summer_ it’s like there’s an itching in me that _won’t stop_... and there’s no way to scratch it and I just want to climb out of my own skin, rub it away like a serpent.

I pass by a recruitment centre for the armed forces one day. That’s all it takes.

I spend the night wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Knowing I can’t stay in this room for one day longer. Knowing I can’t return home for the summer.

Summer is a bad time. I need to be away by then.

I apply for the paratroopers, and get in. My mates are studying and I’m jumping out of planes and learning to shoot stuff and blow them up.

I love it.

And I’m _fucking_ good at it.

It’s a challenge dealing with superior officers who rub me the wrong way - but after all, I have a lifetime of training faking it.

Very soon, I set my sights on getting into the SAS.

The day I get my beret is the best day of my life.

It _is._ Nothing else compares.

I have truly found my calling. I begin to gather commendations and accolades, although I don’t really give a shit about what the higher-ups think of me - I just want to do what I’m good at.

Everything now falls into the category ‘SAS’ and ‘before SAS’.

Everything that came before feels like a hazy dream.

I don’t think about it much. What’s the point?

There is nothing else I need or want. The Regiment is my life now.

_London's tougher. Harder to tame._

_Both more the venerable old dame and more the dangerous seductress, who'll kiss you with a mouth of poison and passion, leaving you gasping without knowing if you're coming or dying._

_I love a challenge._

All good things must come to an end. Even if they’re ripped from you against your will, leaving you gasping for breath...

You’d think I’d have learned this by now.

After years of covert ops and becoming the best sniper the Regiment has, and the most lethal killing machine I ever could have imagined... I’m spit out into civilian life.

One fucking decision. Going against direct orders, to do the right thing... and I’m thrown out like rubbish.

I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently. But it still fucking hurts.

After everything I’ve done for them, giving myself in service, putting my life on the line, sweating and bleeding for the good of the nation, nearly dying more times than I can count…

Fuck Queen and Country. The old bats never gave a shit about me.

I end up in London, call up an old army mate for a drink. He tells me about what kind of work he and other ex-soldiers have got into - hired muscle, criminal activity, wetwork.

If I don’t mind getting involved in such unseemly business, he can hook me up.

I think about it for less time than it takes to finish my drink.

I meet with his employer the next morning.

And that’s how Sebastian Moran, aristocratic lord-to-be, Eton brat, Oxford dropout, career soldier and SAS star, found his way into the criminal underworld.

Everything now falls into the category ‘Crime’ and ‘Before Crime’.

It feels like slipping on a jacket that has been waiting for me.

I never particularly wanted to wear it, but - fine. I won’t fight against what’s clearly inevitable...

what’s the point?

_She's a feisty one, but of course I manage to decipher her - *of course*. It's all just applied logic. Patterns within patterns. If you know how one cog spins, you can work out all the other ones - you just have to put your mind to it. And no one has a mind like mine._

_Soon my web covers London. And extends outwards into the world._

Just like in the armed forces, I prove myself to be a valuable resource.

And just like in the armed forces, there are life-and-death factors to navigate -

co-workers of varying degrees of intelligence, ability, and trustworthiness...

circumstances that turn from boring and easy to lethal in the blink of an eye...

and egotistical authority figures who _do not_ like said authority questioned.

These are things I can handle in my sleep.

Especially authority figures... I’ve always had a way of giving them even better than what they’re asking for - which means I do things my own way, and they would be stupid to question to my methods.

And I’m just ‘respectful’ enough that they don’t do anything about my snarky demeanour.

It’s a bloody tightrope, but I’ve been walking it since I was a kid - and it’s one of the few things that give me genuine pleasure. So I’m not about to stop, even if it ends up killing me one day.

There’s a job I’m doing with Hastings when I first hear the name - mumbled under his breath as if it’s an incantation that will result in a dark entity manifesting.

“Who’s Moriarty?” I ask.

His eyes widen and he looks around. “Keep it down,” he hisses. “You don’t say that name out loud.”

“What, Moriarty?” I ask, enjoying the stricken look on his face.

“Fuck, mate...” he mutters, then glares at me. “Look - I know you’re untouchable or whatever, but that won’t fly with-“

“Moriarty?” I ask innocently.

“Stop that!” Hastings snaps. “Look, I don’t want to lose you. You’re too good. But you’ll have to use your fucking brain to not get into hot water on this job.”

“Hot water doesn’t scare me,” I say, lighting a cigarette and smiling as I slip it in between my lips. There’s a singing sound as I take a drag.

“Yeah well. This hot water will take your skin off,” he snaps. “Take the package to the warehouse, and _don’t stop for anything_. If anything happens to it...”

“The bogeyman will get cranky?” I smirk as I watch his face grow red.

“Jesus Christ, Moran... my arse is on the line here, too,” he snaps.

“You need to relax... maybe book yourself a spa treatment,” I grin and flick ash at his feet. “What are you waiting for? Give it to me.”

He sighs and holds out a padded envelope. There appears to a small box in it - as I take it, I give it a slight shake and hear the clank of metal.

“Ring of Mordor?” I ask, then wave him off as he appears to be getting ready to launch into a diatribe.

“Yeah, yeah. Consider me chastised. Bloody terrifying,” I mutter as I walk away, tucking the envelope into my inside pocket.

“Moran,” he says seriously, and I turn. “ _Don’t_ be flippant. This is dangerous territory...”

“It’s _criminal activity_ , mate. Nature of the beast, isn’t it?” I ask, perplexed. Haven’t I always pulled off every job with precision? What’s his deal now?

“This is a different kind of beast,” I hear him call after me, and I shake my head as I head out to where my motorcycle is parked.

I throw a leg over the seat, and take a final drag of my cigarette. Hastings is an ex-soldier, too - I’ve never seen him like this. What the fuck. I throw the remains of my cigarette on the ground and crush it under my boot. Then I rev up the engine and tear through the dark streets of London.

_It doesn't really take much effort to become the top player. Other contestants are all so limited - by conventions, traditions, dull brains, lack of ambition. One man with a sharp vision can cut through them like a knife through butter._

_Soon London is *my* strumpet, kissing and killing whoever I want her to, as I crush whoever displeases me and burn their remains. My name is whispered in awe._

It’s almost too easy...

Criminal types, even in tightly-run organizations, are no match for an elite SAS operative.

So yes, there’s an incident where they try to intercept the package.

But none of them have been in battle conditions, and none of them have instincts so primed for danger that I already know on the road approaching the warehouse that all is not right.

They’re lying in wait, planning to accost me before I ever reach the location.

They didn’t expect me to pull out a semi-automatic...

they didn’t expect me to shoot over my shoulder through the windscreen...

they didn’t expect the jaunty wave as the car spun out of control and went careening off the road and into a ditch.

And they sure as fuck didn’t expect me to get off my bike and finish the job - two in the head for each, and I’m off again, adrenaline coursing through me as I ride to the warehouse.

When I arrive, a man with a shaved head opens the door and gives me a curious look.

“Run into any problems, Moran?” he asks casually.

“How did you know?” I ask just as casually.

Even though his face remains neutral, there’s a furtive look in his eye. “I _don’t_ know. Did you?” he asks coldly.

I laugh. “Would I be standing here if there was a problem?”

He exhales forcibly through his nose. “You gonna hand it over?” he asks, impatience rising.

“One ring of Mordor,” I say, and throw the package towards him. It spins once and he catches it out of the air. He looks it at it, sniffs, and begins to close the door.

Something is off...

“Was this a _test?”_ I ask.

He locks eyes with me, says nothing, and closes the door firmly.

I stare at it, intrigued. Then I return to my bike, send a quick text to Hastings, and take off, engine roaring.

_A file lands on my desk._

_The name on it is -_

_\- the name -_

_..._

_"Leave me alone," I growl at Steve._

That evening, I’m drinking whisky and pacing in my flat. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, and I need to _do_ something... if I stay here all night, I’ll lose my mind...

The problem with civilian life is, even as a criminal, there’s only short bursts of danger and then... everything is so fucking _mundane_.

Nothing like being in the desert with a covert ops team...

I want it so badly, I’m trembling.

I growl and head to my cupboard.

Just as I’m pawing through my clothes, I hear a text alert. I check the message forum and receive information about another job tomorrow. I look over the details, and they’re rather sparse. I’m to show up to an office and receive details there - huh.

I shrug. Well it came through Hastings. But that job today... what was that about?

 _Was_ it actually a test? Maybe all that bloody weirdness about ‘Moriarty’ is just getting to me.

Time to blow off some steam...

I head to a gay bar. Some nights I dally with women, but tonight I just want something easy. Something quick and dirty... something aggressive.

I pick a place known for that kind of hook-up. I walk in and feel sets of eyes lock on me immediately. I smile faintly.

Target locked, I think to myself. Who’s going to move in for the kill shot?

I saunter to the bar and order a whisky.

_I see myself in my mind's eye - a grizzled guy in a mackintosh and a fedora, sitting at a bar with a whiskey, taking a drag of his cigarette before turning to the camera and saying in a gravelled voice - 'I haven't heard that name in years.'_

_It could be coincidence - but I sincerely doubt it._

_Opening the folder, there's a photograph._

_Oh._

One young hunter makes his move, invites me to the alley behind the club.

I finish my drink, sling an arm around his shoulders, head outside.

Only - we pass by someone who looks familiar -

And I stop and stare, my heart pounding...

The guy has already passed by. I back away.

I move away from the guy who invited me outside.

Away from the crowd...

Away from the club...

And when I get home, I shed my clothes, drink myself senseless and pass out on the floor.

_Memories I haven't thought about for so long._

_I don't let them unbalance me. They are just pictures from the past. They have no depth, no charge._

_I put the pictures from the past next to the pictures from the present._

_Special Forces soldier. Not at all surprising._

_Kicked out - even less surprising._

_Steve thinks he may be a good one to recruit for the Empire._

_I send a text._

I wake up stiff and achy.

Ugh... what the fuck was my problem last night? Why did I fall asleep on the floor?

I haul myself up, groaning. Time for strong coffee, and a hearty breakfast.

I glance at my phone. Plenty of time. After I return from breakfast, I spend the day cleaning up and reading.

By the time it comes to leave, I’m climbing the walls.

Once again I head out on my motorcycle. I checked with Hastings, and he had no more information for me about this job. He just grunted at me that last night’s job was well done, don’t fuck up this one.

I hang up on him, feeling in a snit. Why is everyone throwing fucking attitude at me if I’m doing such a stellar job? I thought I’d left that behind when I left (got booted from) the Regiment...

Feeling crabby, I throw on my leather coat and head to the car park. Moments later, I’m on the road zipping in between cars, revelling in the danger of it, but too agile and capable to put myself at serious risk - at least for these short bursts of time I feel how I long to feel again.

Like a wild animal, running free... and dangerous...

I arrive at the location. Another warehouse. No ambush this time...

I park the bike, and knock on the door.

The same guy from yesterday opens it, and gestures at me with a grimace to go in.

“No problems today either, mate,” I say as I pass him. My smile is friendly but sharp.

_I sit at the table for a long time. I kind of wish I smoked or drank._

_After a while, I get up, head to my bedroom, open my shoe cupboard. Down the back is a cardboard shoebox that I drag from place to place without ever opening it._

_I pull it out, take off the lid, fold back the paper._

The guy hands me another padded envelope - this one feels empty.

“Sending someone good wishes?” I ask with a smirk.

He gives me a flinty look, then tells me the location of where to drop it.

“Is this another test?” I ask, stuffing it inside my jacket.

“Wouldn’t get in the habit of asking questions...” he grunts, looking down at his phone and sending a text.

 _Leaving now_ I read upside-down. Hm.

Off to the docks... God, can this get more shadowy and mysterious?

There’s a man waiting in the darkness. His hat casts a shadow over his face.

I don’t sense danger looming, and I approach as the sound of the waves laps against the docks.

“You have good wishes for me?” he says gruffly.

“What?” I ask, suddenly more alert.

He raises his head slightly. “You have the package for me?” he repeats as though to a child.

“Yeah...” I say, unsure now what I heard. With the wind and the waves, either I misheard - or my mind is playing tricks on me. Get your head in the game, Moran...

The man pulls a small parcel out of his jacket, and hands it to me. Then he gives me yet another address.

I sigh. This is starting to feel like working for a courier service. Which is _not_ what I signed up for.

“Problem?” The voice is cold.

“‘Course not. Do what I’m told, don’t I?” I drawl and head back to my bike.

_I have my hand on the doorknob, when I stop in my tracks._

_*What am I doing?*_

_Well, checking out a potential recruit._

_*Come off it, Moriarty.*_

_No seriously. He's good. He's *bloody* good. We need him._

_*Jim. You're not-*_

_What?_

_*You've been doing real well. Look at everything you've achieved in the past years. Because your mind was pure, and clear, and rational.*_

_Apollonian..._

_*You don't want to risk that.*_

_I'm pretty sure I have grown out of any childhood follies I had. I was a teenager. I was a junkie. Teenage junkies do irrational things._

_I took my measures. What, you think just because I go and see someone from the past I'm going to go off the deep end?_

_*You've never been back to Dublin.*_

_Dublin's a shithole._

_I slam the door a bit too hard on my way out._

Yet another warehouse. Yet another gruff man behind a door.

He gestures at me to go towards the back.

I walk past rows upon rows of shelving units. Towards an empty desk with a chair in front of it.

Am I supposed to sit here or something? I don’t think so.

I look around the space, sensing movement up in the rafters. There’s a mezzanine and a tunnel that I assume leads to another warehouse... and stairs that lead down to the ground level. That a man is standing at the top of, arms on the railing, looking down at me.

It’s dark and I can’t make out his face.

“Sebastian Moran,” he says, his voice lilting.

My body reacts, growing tense while my heart begins to pound in my chest.

Who is this guy??

I squint up at him as he walks slowly along the scaffolding. The way he moves...

Oh... Oh _god_...


	31. Eternal Flame

My mouth opens to speak but only a rusty squeak comes out.

Oh my god oh my god, it can’t be him, it _can’t_ be...

This is a mistake...

NO. There’s no mistaking that face, even at this distance. No mistaking that look in his eyes...

God, his eyes...

“Jim Moriarty,” he says, then leans over the railing on his elbows. _“Hiii.”_

 _“Moriarty??_ How-?” I manage to get out.

“How did I get here? That’s a very long story, Sebastian. And not at all relevant to this job. You have something for me?”

“Have something?” I ask, absolutely stunned. I pull out the parcel from my pocket and look at him like ‘what the fuck?’

Suddenly there’s gunfire at the front of the warehouse. I pull out my semiautomatic and look up at him. “Another test?” I growl.

He looks towards the sound, and starts to laugh.

“God, no...” he says, sounding absolutely delighted. “That would be the people who want their parcel back...”

What the fuck, _what the fuck is going on here,_ how is _he_ Moriarty, my mind feels like it’s detonating right now but I don’t _have time for this_...

With a snarl, I run to a shelving unit and peek through the slats.

There are men approaching. They haven’t seen me...

They’re alert but not firing - they must have taken out any security at the front. Which means it’s just me, fifteen guys, and... _Jim??_

I curse under my breath, scale to the top of the shelving unit, and let off a volley of rounds.

There’s shouting, screams of pain... some men thump to the ground, the rest scramble for cover. During the melee, I’ve jumped to the next shelving unit. They’ve started firing where I was.

Too late.

Ten to go.

But now they’ve got cover. Quietly I jump to the next shelving unit over. I feel around for what’s on the shelves - car rotors? They’ll do.

I pull several from the shelves, dropping them en masse on two men below, who scream with surprise as the heavy objects land on their heads, and they crumple to the ground.

Eight. Now they’re firing on my location. I flatten myself against the top of the shelf.

“Mr Lennox,” a man calls out. “Get your man to bloody stop firing! We can come to an arrangement...”

_"Oh, I wouldn't *dream* of it... this is much too impressive..."_

_It really is. Of course there's backup if he gets into a spot that's too tight - but it's looking nowhere near it. It's beautiful - like a dancer, or an acrobat, but with the stakes a little bit higher._

Jim is sitting and _watching_ , his legs hanging down from the mezzanine.

Jesus... do you not think taking bloody cover might be wise, _Mr Moriarty??_

One of the men is inching steadily towards the end of a unit, gun out.

Where are you heading -

He flattens himself against it, peers around and takes aim.

 _Jim_ -

I spring up just enough to shoot him in the head, then I have to army-crawl along the tops of the units to avoid the bullets coming at me.

Seven.

Shit. I hope you’ve hidden yourself now...

If only I had a lovely grenade, I think wistfully as bullets continue to zing around me.

“Mr Lennox!” the same man shouts. “You’re outmanned, and it’s just a matter of time... give us what we came for, and you and your man can walk out of here...”

The gunfire stops as they wait for your answer. Slowly I lift my head and stare hard at the lighting fixtures on the ceiling. I take my other semiautomatic from my holster, and aim both guns for the cords holding the lights up... right above the heads of several men taking aim for you.

You don’t look at me, keeping your eyes fixed on the one in charge. You feign thinking about his offer.

“Oh, if you’ll let me and my man go free, then - I won’t get a better chance than that, will I?” you say, then point at the desk. “Parcel’s in the top drawer... it’s all yours.”

The man waves one of his men towards the desk. You watch him like a malevolent being as he approaches, and he actually slows down.

“What are you waiting for?” His boss shouts at him. “Get it!”

Gingerly he steps behind the desk, and grasps the handle of the drawer like it’s going to bite him. Then he pulls it. And then the desk explodes. He and the closest man go flying backwards.

There’s so much smoke, it’s difficult to see anyone. I shoot madly at the cables of the lighting fixture and the entire thing hurtles to the ground, crushing what sounds like several men underneath. I hear others go running towards you.

I jump down from the shelving unit, roll, and jump into a run after them.

“Don’t you want your parcel?” I shout.

The smoke is clearing. Two.

The man in charge points his gun at Jim, and the other one points his at me.

As I hold out the parcel, his lips curl into a triumphant smile. “Throw it over, and I won’t shoot your Boss...”

“He’s not my Boss,” I say, and shoot them both where they stand. They slump over onto the floor, and blood pools around them.

I rush around at the space littered with men and broken glass and charred, smoking chunks of wood. Confident that all these bodies are indeed dead, I find myself sinking to the ground. The parcel thumps onto the floor. On my knees, I look up at you.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask hoarsely. “ _What the fuck_ , Jim??”

_Amazing. Absolutely amazing._

_I stand up, step onto the stairs down._

_"Stellar. Is it naughty that I've got a hardon just looking at this?"_

_You're even prettier than you were at seventeen; the pictures didn't do you justice - yes, they showed your symmetrical and rugged features, but you need to see them moving to get the full impact - the grace, the lethality, the strength and agility - yes, you're still the Tiger - very much more so. Where earlier you were the lithe teen, now you are the full 600-pound killer adult stalking the jungle._

_I walk down from my perch to where you are sitting among the bodies of the men you killed._

_"I wanted that," I point at the package._

_"And I thought you might want this back."_

_I throw a folded bit of cloth at you._

I watch you move towards me, barely registering what you’re saying.

How the fuck is this happening?? Did I hit my head? Am I passed out on this cold floor, dreaming the most surreal dream of my life?

I’m in awe as I look at you - my Jim, all grown up. No. _Not_ my Jim, I remind myself, jaw hardening. This is _Moriarty_ \- the bogeyman that terrifies _criminals_. Jim _left_.

But I can’t help but devour you with my eyes - the lean body in the elegant suit, gliding towards me with preternatural grace.

The sharp angles in your still-elfin face, even more stunning now as an adult... shifting from innocence to wickedness and back again...

And your eyes, like gleaming black tar pits, holding me in place.

I can’t move... until you throw something at me. Exhausted as I am, my reflexes are still lightning-fast and I snatch what you throw out of the air.

What the hell? I find myself staring at the black fabric in confusion - then I unfold it.

Oh. God.

It hits me with the impact of a lorry. I’m _there_ \- wearing the Ramones shirt when I meet you in the club. And then - seeing you in it on our last morning together... stretched out on the sofa, lying in my arms...

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at it, but when I look up I’m trembling.

“You... _kept_ this?” I hear myself ask, as my fingers grasp the fabric.

God, why do you sound like a lovestruck teen? Get your shit together, Moran! He’s _Moriarty_ now. It’s been how many years now... since he _left_ you without a word?

“I’m surprised... I thought you preferred clean breaks,” I say, scowling.

And now you sound like a surly teenager. Fucking perfect.

_Your face journey is impressive._

_Dumbstruck - how did I get here? *I* am Moriarty?_

_Fond - you've found your Jim back._

_Oh, no, I'm sorry, Tiger... your Jim has long gone..._

_And you realize that as well. And then you spot the cut of my trousers, the angle of my shoulders - ah, yes, I read about your famous libido in your file. That hasn't changed from your teenage years then..._

_And you like what you see - your skinny junkie boy all grown up and filled out in all the right places._

_You're fascinated - I still have the power to hypnotize you, do I?_

_How do you like the t-shirt? I have no idea why I kept it all those years - I took it with me to England, it was one of the best items of clothing I owned, but I never wore it nor got rid of it. Not very rational, I guess –_

_\- and you spot that, hone in on that weak spot._

_Never show weak spots, Moriarty._

_You weren't happy about me walking out on you. Can't blame you - you were so madly in love, and I just disappeared into thin air._

_I shake my head - I was so feral; terrified._

_A kid, really._

_I come to a stop in front of you. You're clutching the fabric, looking up at me from down on your knees - well. that brings opportunities to mind._

_"Did you miss me?"_

You’re moving towards me, and I can’t help but think of a shark.

God. Who are you now??

You look pleased, smug, and very intrigued.

And I have _never_ seen such confidence... even in swaggering SAS soldiers, which is saying something.

But your confidence isn’t based on badass missions, or impressive skill sets... it goes so much deeper than that.

You’ve become a force to be reckoned with.

Well - Good. For. You. Moriarty.

You ask me a question and I stare back at you, stunned.

“Did I _miss_ you?” I repeat.

I start to laugh - the laugh of someone straying dangerously close to the edge. If you weren’t here staring at me like a specimen pinned to a board, I think I might have teared up. But I haven’t cried in bloody years, and I don’t intend to in front of you.

“Is this a game to you?” I growl. My eyes narrow.

_Ohhh, loads of feelings there. I would feel guilty, but - well, I don't._

_Tiger's angry, though. And he does have claws. And a semi-automatic._

_Wouldn't that be *hilarious*? Moriarty finally gets killed at the hands of his childhood boyfriend? I giggle at the thought. You look even angrier._

_"A game? Yes, you could say so..."_

I huff, and sit there staring at you for a while longer. Searching for your face for - what? The ghost of the boy I loved with my entire being?

Not even a trace left that I can see...

But you seem to be aware of what I’m doing, and your lips curl into a smirk.

I rise slowly so I’m looking down at you.

“That right? Tell me all about your game then,” I say in a rough voice.

Why the bloody hell did I say _that?_

Tell him to fuck off and _go home_. No - go out and get laid like you didn’t last night... and put the final nail in the coffin of this part of your past.

I glare down at you, still clutching the t-shirt in my hand.

_Wow, you're tall. And muscular._

_Rawr._

_I like rugged, masculine men... though I prefer them on their knees._

_"My game is simple - I play, and I win," I smile._

_"This package here contains some… sensitive information about a major player in London, which I can use to make him a slightly less major player, and in return become slightly more major myself. If one does that enough times, one becomes rather major indeed. Oh sorry - you don't like majors, do you..." I grin._

Why am I still here?? Why haven’t I shouted at you and left?

Well, I doubt I’ll ever see you again... so if this is my only moment with you, I suppose I better seize the opportunity. But for what? Closure, is that what they call it? I doubt you’ll give me the answers I was looking for...

Your comment about majors makes me grimace. I step back and reach into my pocket for my pack of fags.

“Well, you know a lot about me... and I know nothing about you. Hardly seems fair, does it?”

I light up and take a drag, regarding you through the smoke.

_I raise an eyebrow, walk closer to you, sniff your scent._

_Tobacco, alcohol - you had a lot to drink last night, but you're a habitual drinker anyway. You're also a man who barely breaks a sweat killing fifteen guys._

_"Au contraire, mon cher - there is no one on God's green earth who knows more about me than you do."_

_I walk closer to you. Your hands come up for a second to ward me off when I grab your jacket and push you against the corner of a shelving unit, pull myself up onto my toes, push my mouth onto yours._

I moved away from you to keep my head clear... and here you are moving towards me again... _smelling_ me? Jesus...

I’m about to say something snarky, but then - you say something so intriguing, my lips part in surprise.

And then you’re fully in my space.

And just as I’m about to push you away, I’m being shoved against a shelving unit -

And then your lips are on mine.

 _Kissing_.

I’m so shocked by what’s transpired, I’m frozen for a moment. In the back of my mind I’m aware that I dropped my cigarette. And the t-shirt. And then the only fucking thing on my mind is kissing you back...

Grasping your hips, and letting out a sound that sounds distinctly swept away and breathless -

I break off the kiss and stare at you, stunned.

“What the fuck-?” I say hoarsely.

_You grasp me, kiss me back -_

_But then you pull away, look at me stunned. Ask what the fuck._

_A reasonable enough question, I suppose._

_Though isn't it obvious? I'm taking back what's mine._

_You may not have realized that, of course. Normal people can be a bit slow._

_I want, though. And what I want, I take. And you - oh god you want too._

_Like I said - a bit slow._

_"Talk after," I suggest, as I push your jacket over your shoulders._

Oh god... I’m pinioned by your eyes again...

Wait, wait - is this even what I want??

Well, of course it’s what I _want_ , if my semi-erect state is anything to go by -

But after everything that happened??

You push my jacket off and it falls to the floor - _thump_.

That thump feels like my resistance falling away as I stare at you intently, your face drawing closer and closer -

This time I drag you against me, and pull you into a kiss.

After all isn’t this what I dreamed of since I was seventeen? Even when I didn’t let myself think of our time together... haven’t I always been secretly dreaming of you?

I moan deep in my throat as you plaster yourself against me.

“Fuck... Jim...” The words escape my lips before I can stop them. I come up for air and blink at you in a daze.

“Or should I be calling you Mr Moriarty?” I say in a rough growl as my fingers dig into your hips.

_There we go... that hot face drawing me close, that rugged jaw with its stubble rubbing against my chin..._

_Those eyes - those eyes have not changed a bit and I feel a stirring around my stomach - careful now - don't let the memories get too intrusive -_

_Feel what's here instead. The hard muscles bulging underneath the t-shirt. The curved back - a scar here on the side, from a bullet -_

_your pelvis pressing against mine, a deep moan -_

_"You can call me Sir..."_

I laugh against your mouth, then breathe in sharply when you bite my lower lip.

Little shit.

“Alright... _Sir_ ,“ I say in a husky voice, dragging your jacket off you.

_Oh fuck -_

_There's never been anyone *near* as hot as you, and you've just spent the past twelve years getting exponentially hotter - you are in stunning physical shape, your face has grown into its full potential, your features more pronounced than when you were a teenager; and the way you looked when you were killing those guys - every move fatally precise, confidence and vigilance in perfect balance - you're the epitome of manhood, and I am a *sucker* for a hot soldier..._

_We're pulling off each other's clothes, I don't even comment on my precious silk suit landing on a dusty bloody warehouse floor, too busy unwrapping this gift from Astarte herself, marvelling at the hardness of the muscles, the scars, the tautness of the arse in those jeans - fucckkkk..._

Clothing _off_ , my hands full of you, full of _Jim_ -

No, he’s Moriarty now, I remind myself, struggling to stay in control of myself as I break off from kissing to unzip my motorcycle boots and kick them off, followed by socks.

_Whoever the fuck he is_ I growl at myself as my jeans are pulled down, and those are kicked off too... your skin slides against mine and my mind _melts_ at the sensation. My muscles are trembling now... I nudge my jacket and clothing into a pile for us to lie down - because that’s what going to happen, isn’t it, oh fuck, is it??

I look at you, suddenly unsure - and I’m utterly transfixed by you, drowning in your eyes.

_Nononono wait -_

_You're losing the initiative, Moriarty -_

_I grab your dog tags - ohhh, *handy* - and move you to a crate, picking up my jacket en route._

_I push you over it, yank down your pants. Oh *fuck*, that arse - to *die* for -_

_I slap it - taut muscles - reach around - oh, yes. That hasn't changed - much - it's slightly bigger, matching the man it's attached to._

I find myself being manhandled into the position you clearly want me to be.

you on top, you in control...

whatever you desire, Jim Moriarty... I’ve waited a lifetime to be here, where you want me.

I stifle a gasp as you slap my arse sharply. And then again as you grab my cock...

Fuck, just like you used to-

Possessively -

doling out pleasure with pain -

God... yes... Jim...

_I reach into my jacket, pull out the small tube of lube and a condom - I was almost superstitious when I put them in there, thinking I was jinxing it, then chiding myself for such stupid thoughts - rightfully so it seems, because here you are, here you *are*, as god intended you to be, bent over and gasping to be fucked by me..._

_And when I enter you, the world disappears._

_This is it. This is the essence of life._

When you push your way inside me, filling me, it’s like no time has passed...

How is that possible??

You’re bigger, of course. And more masterful in how you fuck me, oh - Christ - Almighty - I’m about ready to come _right here_ on the spot...

but it’s far too soon, and something tells me you wouldn’t like that...

and even after all this time, I remember how intoxicating it is to please you.

well, you seem very fucking pleased as I moan and writhe underneath you…

I turn my head to look over my shoulder at you, and you pull me back into a searing kiss.

_Muscular *and* supple..._

_And *mine*._

_God, I didn't even have to convince you - it's like the years in between haven't happened, or rather, they did happen, but they happened on my command - go out and become an elite killing machine, Sebastian, and then come back - I may have a use for you..._

_*Several* uses..._

_I shiver in delight - fuck, this is too good to last long, and you seem to feel the same - the heady rush of the adrenaline of the fight and finding you back, the perfect *perfect* feeling of you underneath me, your perfect *perfect* arse -_

_This is going to be quick and dirty and exquisite, like your killing spree earlier –_

Oh my god, how did this happen, *Jim is fucking me*, and I haven’t made noises like this since... well, Jim.

and yeah, you’re an _arrogant fucker_ now, but somehow that’s not surprising, and yeah it’s totally hot, and yeah, I’m furious at you, and if you think I’m going to be all compliant and obedient you have another thing coming, and maybe I should have put up more of a fight, but god, how could I resist, seeing you again after all this time, seeing you fully grown and gorgeous and -

oh god -

your hand is on my cock doing the most magical things, and I’m full of your cock and yeah this is so wrong and so right and so _fucking hot_ oh god oh fuck oh -

_It's almost like it works the other way round as well - I have just stepped out a few years to build a criminal empire so I can afford my own gorgeous suits and a decent apartment, and now I'm back to doing what I love doing most - fucking you..._

_Careful Moriarty -_

_Oh fuck it - if I can't think lyrical ecstatic thoughts when I'm balls-deep in the hottest soldier in the fucking British Empire, when can I?_

_I move my hand on your cock the way I remember, like it was yesterday, and you're writhing and clawing at the rough wood of the crate, and the lights dim as purple fireworks explode –_

We’re moving together as one, and it’s like it was then but _more_ , somehow - more intense, more urgent, which is weird because we were so in love then, and I know this is just physical and nostalgic; I _know it_ rationally, but fuck if this isn’t melting my brain utterly, and now pleasure is mounting so hard and fast, I’m gasping and calling your name, and I didn’t mean to, but I’m sure you’re not paying attention because you’re coming and then we’re both shuddering violently and you’re collapsing on me as I come in spurts against the crate and my mind finally is consumed by ecstasy...

When I become aware of the room again, I feel your body lying against me.

What happens _now?_ I steel myself for whatever is to come as you pull out of me, and I sink to my knees.

_Fuck - fuck -_

_*Fuuuuuuck...*_

_I haven't come like this in -_

_god, *ages* -_

_You are slumped underneath me and I lie on top of you, dazed -_

_Right._

_Reunion. Murder. USB stick. Sex._

_Sebastian._

_Fucking hell. It's really you._

_I stare at a scar on your shoulder blade - not a bullet, an infection - probably from jungle training -_

_*Jim.*_

_Mmm?_

_*You have to move at some point. Probably talk, too.*_

_Oh - yes... wits, where are you; I know you're around... please, gather..._

_*Jim. Stop fucking around. This man underneath you is both dangerous and a valuable asset. Play your cards right.*_

_Sigh._

_Yeah. Alright. Man can't take his time to recover from the orgasm of the century any more..._

_I pull out of you, get a tissue from my pocket, clean myself off, pull up my pants._

_Right. Good start._

_*Concentrate*, Moriarty._

_Oh._

_You're - sinking to your knees._

_What - why –_

God, you’re already getting up. Not saying anything. Just as I thought.

What are you doing, Moran? Waiting for him to ask you what’s wrong? Stop acting like an idiot teenager, and _man up_.

I turn and look at you over my shoulder.

“I just-“

Stop talking -

“I just have to know-“

 _Stop talking_ -

“Is any part of the Jim I knew still there?”

I rise up and lock eyes with you. “Or are you fully Moriarty now? _Sir.”_

_Right. What the fuck does that mean?_

_The Jim you knew? What - the spotty junkie teenager? Who was so madly in *love*?_

_He's long gone... but I'm still - I'm still *me*. Just - grown up._

_"I'm Jim Moriarty."_

_Wow. So deep. So profound. He must be stunned._

_"The Jim you knew..." I muse. "What does that mean? Are you still the Seb I knew? Of course you are - but you're also different."_

I consider this and nod. "Can't argue with that, Jim Moriarty..."

I give you a long searching look. For one wild moment I'm tempted to grasp your arms and plead "Jim? Are you still in there? Come out! It's Seb!" but I have a feeling you'd think me mad or a fool. Probably both.

So instead I do all that's left to do - get dressed and take my leave of you.

I wander over to where my clothes are still in a heap, feeling panicky and distressed.

Jesus, Seb - it's been _twelve years._ You had your moment with him, which you never thought you'd have - he's alive and well, and now it's time to finally get over it.

Once my jeans are on, I pull out a cigarette which I badly need - my hands shake slightly as I light it.

I see you looking at me as you dress, and I try to cover up how affected I am by offering you a cigarette.

"So this was fun... fifteen bodies, and one hot fuck," I say wryly. "Now you disappear again?"

_I move my hand past the cigarette package, take your cigarette out of your mouth, take a deep drag._

_I don't smoke. But a drag from a Sebastian cigarette –_

_brings back more memories than I had counted on._

_I cough - oh really smooth Moriarty. Hand it back. Lean against the crate._

_"You work for me now. Start at the bottom - heh - like everyone does, but I have no doubt you'll make your way up quickly._

_You'll get a call from my doctor to make an appointment. Don't miss it._

_Needless to say, if you tell anyone about my past, you're dead, which would be a terrible waste, so don't. I *will* hear. I hear everything._

_And I don't share. So if you want there to be a second hot fuck, you'll keep your hands off all those illiterate wantons you've been wasting your time with."_

_“Illiterate wantons?"_ I stare at you for a long moment before dissolving into laughter.

"Let me get this straight... You've decided I'm working for you. Seeing your _doctor_. And if I want another shag, I'll be your exclusive property. Some kind of non-attached monogamy?"

I stop to take a drag from my cigarette, grinning fiercely. "Did I get that right?"

_"Exactly," I smile broadly. "You catch on quickly."_

"Well, I'd ask who _the fuck_ you think you are, but I think that's been more than established by now..." I blow smoke towards you.

"But I'm curious why you think I would go along with this?" I raise an eyebrow.

_"What else are you going to do?" I ask, raising an eyebrow right back at you._

_"Of course you can say you prefer your inferior dalliances, and keep up with them," I wave my hand, then reach for your cigarette again. You hand it over, and I take another drag - more carefully, this time. "But you and I both know that that's always been and will always be *so* unsatisfying."_

_I hand the cigarette back._

_"And as for the work - in your chosen profession the best way to make a decent career is to work for Moriarty."_

_I move up from the crate, walk around you. "You'd be foolish to not go along with it. And you're not."_

I listen as I pull on my socks and zip up my boots. My face is impassive when I straighten up.

Dropping the cigarette, I crush it underfoot. Then I grab the Ramones t-shirt and pull it on over my head. A bit snug, of course - but your eyes widen so I know it's done the trick.

"No, I'm not," I say, sauntering after you. "Except when I am." Then I yank you against me and into a scorching kiss.

_Tiger in the basket._

_The shirt looks - almost too good on you. You notice me noticing - work on your poker face, Moriarty..._

_And then you walk up to me, grab me in a kiss -_

_\- I'll allow that - for now. It's been some night for you. I'll even kiss back._

_You taste so perfectly of Sebastian, even after all these years..._

_When you pull back, I grin._

_"My people will be in touch."_

I've been dismissed, have I? Well, at least I was allowed this little indulgence without being throttled.

I reach out and stroke your unruly hair back into place, letting the backs of my fingers trail over your cheek every so lightly.

"So will I," I say, my voice low and rough.

There's a flicker across your face... serpent-quick before it disappears under the surface without a ripple.

And in that moment it doesn't matter that twelve years have passed. I know what I saw.

And so do you, by the furtive look you give me.

My Jim is still alive... and the one thing a sniper knows how to do is to is lie in wait for his quarry.

I grin back at you. "I look forward to being in your service. Jim Moriarty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of the adventures of our teenage hellions...  
> but of course we all know Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran's story never ends. And we just loved these two too much to be able to leave them...  
> So we started a sequel, for those who are keen to see what happens when they're both all grown up: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388609/chapters/72197100
> 
> If you'd like to read more Mormor, have a look at our other works! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FaerieCat_Mormor/works


	32. Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eh - FaerieCat? This is a list of songs. I come here for the sweet, sweet Mormor.
> 
> Well spotted, astute reader. Normally we keep the playlist in the end notes, but we have come across a problem: the end notes don't allow more than 5,000 characters, and that's not going to be enough for this fic. Music is important to us and our writing at all times, but this playlist is specifically powerful, to transport us and the reader back to those late eighties, and into the boys' minds.  
> Therefore, we've made it its own chapter, so we won't run out of space. Have a listen here to our ever-growing list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3E5XYIrl0e6z3gNmzlxKrP?si=JsRhenW3S0mYCSONUex8lg

Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World - Ramones

Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler

Kangaroo - This Mortal Coil

Anarchy in the UK - Sex Pistols

Blue Monday '88 - New Order

Atomic - Blondie

Drain the Blood - The Distillers

Gangsta - New Years Day

Drowse - Queen

Dismantle me - The Distillers

The Sun Does Rise - Jah Wobble's Invaders Of The Heart

Cherry Bomb - The Runaways

Hall of Mirrors - The Distillers

Tainted Love - Soft Cell

Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye - Leonard Cohen

Beat Your Heart Out - The Distillers

Relax - Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Heart of Glass - Blondie

Love Is Paranoid - The Distillers

Take on Me - a-ha

Dreaming - Blondie

Roots Radical - Rancid

Cruel Summer - Bananarama

Snakepit - The Cure

This Is Radio Clash - The Clash

Rasputin - Boney M.

Kyoto Song - The Cure

Train in Vain (Stand by Me) - The Clash

Time after Time - Cindy Lauper

Perfect Day - Lou Reed

Beat on the Brat - Ramones

Save a Prayer - Duran Duran

Beat's so Lonely - Charlie Sexton

I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend - Ramones

Piano Song - Erasure

Hole in the River - Crowded House

No Feelings - Sex Pistols

What Is Love? - Howard Jones

Wild Flower - The Cult

I Wanna Be Your Dog - Sid Vicious

Missing You - John Waite

(Here Comes the) Rain - The Cult

Shove - L7

Temptation - New Order

Push - The Cure

Pretend We're Dead - L7

Burning Up - Madonna

The Lovecats - The Cure

Lordy Lordy - The Distillers

Live to Tell - Madonna

Why Can't I Be You? - The Cure

Symphony of Destruction - Megadeth

Jimmy Jimmy - Madonna

Just like Heaven - The Cure

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne

Crazy for You - Madonna

Fight - The Cure

Round and Round - Ratt

Toy Soldiers - Martika

Grimly Fiendish - The Damned

Paradise City - Guns n' Roses

Love... Thy Will Be Done - Martika

Ziggy Stardust - David Bowie

Patience - Guns n' Roses

Justify My Love - Madonna

But Not Tonight - Depeche Mode

Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Guns n' Roses

Love Is a Stranger - Eurythmics

Policy of Truth - Depeche Mode

Talk Dirty to Me - Poison

Criminal - Fiona Apple

Strangelove - Depeche Mode

Nothin' but a Good Time - Poison

Kids in America - Kim Wilde

Stripped - Depeche Mode

You Shook Me All Night Long - AC/DC

Venus - Bananarama

Just Like Honey - The Jesus And Mary Chain

Don't Mess with Me - Brody Dalle

A View to a Kill - Duran Duran

Tower of Strength - The Mission

Fight the Power - Public Enemy

The Reflex - Duran Duran

Dirty Old Town - The Pogues

Poison - Alice Cooper

you should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Queen

Young Lust - Aerosmith

Summer Rain - Belinda Carlisle

What Difference Does It Make? - The Smiths

Burns like a Buzzsaw Blade - Annihilator

As I Lay Me Down - Sophie B. Hawkins

Remember a Day - Pink Floyd

Dyers Eve - Metallica

The Warrior - Scandal featuring Patty Smyth

Nice 'n' Sleazy - The Stranglers

The Real Thing - Faith No More

Like a Virgin - Madonna

No Mercy - The Stranglers

I Hate - Overkill

Material Girl - Madonna

Bang a Gong (Get It On) - T. Rex

Thieves - Ministry

Walk like an Egyptian - The Bangles

Jet Boy Jet Girl - Elton Motello

Nice Boys - Guns n' Roses

Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles

I'm Going Home - Tim Curry

In Dark Places - Crimson Glory

Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order

Science Fiction/Double Feature - Richard O'Brien

Is This Love - Whitesnake

Bad Boy - Miami Sound Machine

Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground and Nico

Read My Scars - Coroner

The Edge of Heaven - Wham!

Need to Numb - Donita Sparks and The Stellar Moments

Summer's Rain - Savatage

French Kiss - Lil' Louis

A Hazy Shade of Winter - Simon and Garfunkel

Trip at the Brain - Suicidal Tendencies

Eternal Flame - The Bangles

Daddy I'm Fine - Sinéad O'Connor

I Wanna Be Your Dog - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

This Time I Know It's for Real - Donna Summer

You Made Me the Thief of Your Heart - Sinéad O'Connor 

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Wild Thing - Tone-Loc

Just Like U Said It Would B - Sinéad O'Connor

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Belfast Child - Simple Minds

Fire on Babylon - Sinéad O'Connor

I Love Rock 'n Roll - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Oh Father - Madonna

Haunted - Shane MacGowan and The Popes

Complicated Mind - DOOM

Never Trust a Stranger - Kim Wilde

Skindeep - Clan of Xymox

Operation Mindcrime - Queensrÿche

Good Life - Inner City

Run Cried the Crawling - Agnes Obel

Can I Play with Madness - Iron Maiden

Puppy Love - Donny Osmond

Somebody - Depeche Mode

Saturday Night's Alright (for Fighting) - Flotsam & Jetsam

This Feeling - Sam Brown

Sunday Girl - Blondie

War Cry - W.A.S.P.

Hot in the City - Billy Idol

Rapture - Blondie

I Want Out - Helloween

Eyes Without a Face - Billy Idol

She Sells Sanctuary - The Cult

Hellion - W.A.S.P.

Dancing with Myself - Billy Idol

Yin and Yang (The Flowerpot Man) - Love and Rockets

Caught in a Mosh - Anthrax

Rebel Yell - Billy Idol

Ball of Confusion - Love and Rockets

I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P.

Keeping the Dream Alive - Münchener Freiheit

Here Comes Your Man - Pixies

You're Crazy - Guns n' Roses

Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson

Wave of Mutilation - UK Surf - Pixies

Hard as Iron - Judas Priest

Kiss - The Art of Noise featuring Tom Jones

Where Is My Mind? - Pixies

Shrine - King Diamond

Twist in My Sobriety - Tanita Tikaram

If I Should Fall from Grace with God - The Pogues

Sodomy and Lust - Sodom

Tears Run Rings - Marc Almond

Wise Up! Sucker - Pop Will Eat Itself

Prelude to Madness - Savatage

Lovely Day (7" Sunshine Mix) - Bill Withers

Love Hurts - Gram Parsons

Mr. Brownstone - Guns n' Roses

You Came - Kim Wilde

Cocaine Sex (Turbo Lust Mix) - Renegade Soundwave

Psycho - Metal Church

What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong

Peek-A-Boo - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Wasted Years - Iron Maiden

Where Did Our Love Go? - Soft Cell

Dear Prudence - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Battery - Metallica

Push It - Salt-N-Pepa

Monitor - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Criminally Insane - Slayer

Monkey - George Michael

Voices Carry - 'Til Tuesday

Peace Sells - Megadeth

Do You Love Me - The Contours

I Am Terrified - IAMX

Armed and Dangerous - Anthrax

The Wild Live - Bananarama

Oh Beautiful Town - IAMX

Ride the Sky - Helloween

Vacation - The Go-Go's

You Think You're a Man - Divine

Raise Some Hell - Saxon

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

Native Love (Step by Step) - Divine

Blow 'Em Off - Monster Magnet

The Blood That Moves the Body - a-ha

Ça plane pour moi - Plastic Bertrand

Orgasm Addict - Buzzcocks

Yeke Yeke - Mory Kanté

After the Fall - Chelsea Wolfe

Killing Is My Business... And Business Is Good! - Megadeth

Stay on These Roads - a-ha

Funeral - Myrkur and Chelsea Wolfe

Madhouse - Anthrax

One More Try - George Michael

Fever - Peggy Lee

On Your Knees - W.A.S.P.

Love is Contagious - Taja Sevelle

Words are Dead - Agnes Obel

Rock Hard Ride Free - Judas Priest

Angel Eyes (Home and Away) - Wet Wet Wet

Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen

Spiders - Ozzy Osbourne

(I've Had) The Time of My Life - Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes

Feeling Good - Sofi Tukker

Holy Diver - Dio

I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany

Little Boy - Barns Courtney

Pet Sematary - Ramones

Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) - Pet Shop Boys

Sinners - Barns Courtney

Crazy Babies - Ozzy Osbourne

New Sensation - INXS

Just Can't Get Enough - Depeche Mode

Reckless Life - Guns n' Roses

Father Figure - George Michael

Very Cruel - POLIÇA

Don't Talk to Strangers - Dio

How Deep Is Your Love - Bee Gees

Bird on a Wire - k.d. lang

Breaking the Law - Judas Priest

The Look of Love - Madonna

Come Clean, Dark Thing - Veruca Salt

Institutionalized - Suicidal Tendencies

Summer Nights - John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John

If It Be Your Will - Leonard Cohen

Master of Puppets - Metallica

The Wild Boys - Duran Duran

The Attractions of Youth - Barns Courtney

Problem Child - AC/DC

Lonely in Your Nightmare - Duran Duran

Bored - Tessa Violet

Speak - Queensrÿche

Ball and Chain - Sam Brown

I'm Scared - Duffy

Too Young to Fall in Love - Mötley Crüe

Crazy - ICEHOUSE

Victoria - Shane MacGowan and The Popes

Thunder and Lightning - Thin Lizzy

We'll Be Together - Sting

Runaway - AURORA

Welcome Home (Sanitarium) - Metallica

Boys (Summertime Love) - Sabrina

Courageous - Clan of Xymox

Pain and Pleasure - Judas Priest

Causing a Commotion - Madonna

One More Time - The Cure

Misguided Fortune - Flotsam & Jetsam

Love Changes (Everything) - Climie Fisher

Ramalama (Bang Bang) - Róisín Murphy

Used to Love Her - Guns n' Roses

It's Over - Level 42

Haze - Tessa Violet

Inner Self - Sepultura

Pump Up the Volume - M/A/R/R/S

Fond Affections - This Mortal Coil

Somewhere in Time/Alone You Breathe - Savatage

It's the First Time - Lois Lane

A Question of Lust - Depeche Mode

Thunderhead - W.A.S.P.

Love House - Samantha Fox

Heroin - The Velvet Underground and Nico

A.D.I/Horror of It All - Anthrax

The Power of Love - Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Lullaby - The Cure

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

Circle in the Sand - Belinda Carlisle 

Heroïne - Doe Maar

Welcome to My Nightmare - Alice Cooper

Hopelessly Devoted to You - Olivia Newton-John

Fall - The Jesus and Mary Chain

The Heretic (The Lost Child) - W.A.S.P.

Rooms on Fire - Stevie Nicks

Alone Together - Fall Out Boy

The Morning After - Faith No More

Soul Mining - The The

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

The Real Me - W.A.S.P.

Into Temptation - Crowded House

Rise - Public Image Ltd.

Out on the Streets - Savatage

Kissing a Fool - George Michael

I'm Waiting for the Man - The Velvet Underground and Nico

This Maniac's in Love with You - Alice Cooper

This is Your Land - Simple Minds

Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

Love You to Death - Judas Priest

I Only Want to Be with You - Dusty Springfield

Troy - Sinéad O'Connor

Move to the City - Guns n' Roses

Straight Up - Paula Abdul

Here Is the House - Depeche Mode

Harvester of Sorrow - Metallica

Four Letter Word - Kim Wilde

Next to You - The Police

The Evil That Men Do - Iron Maiden

First Time - Robin Beck

Leaving on a Jet Plane - John Denver

24 Hrs. Ago - Savatage

Don't Worry Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin

Like Cockatoos - The Cure

Out ta Get Me - Guns n' Roses

Indestructible - Four Tops

I Wanna Be Your Man - The Rolling Stones

London Calling - The Clash


End file.
